


Rough and Tumble

by stayclassycait



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:46:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayclassycait/pseuds/stayclassycait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a new single parent, Erik struggles to make ends meet and manage his kids and engineering career at the same time. He rents out the spare room to help with finances, and perhaps receives more than just the extra five hundred a month.</p><p>Distasteful/cheap/not actually that humorous humor, obscure references, and devil-may-care attitude run wild.</p><p>Work in progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One of Those Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here it is, raw and unedited (editors? what ARE those?). Did this on a whim in response to a request, and I haven't written fiction in forever. It's sort of silly, not meant to be taken too seriously.
> 
> ... Be gentle with me.
> 
> enjoy!

_He was on a submarine. There was some bright light above him, making the details of his surroundings fuzzy. In the dim light, he saw sensors and keyboards, blinking in response to whatever they monitored. Men sat facing them, their features in shadow. He realized he was standing on a small platform with a metal railing wrapped around the front of it, and he questioned himself why he was in the captain’s position in a submarine. Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he turned to see a bearded man wearing a captain’s uniform._

 _“What… Sean Connery?”_

 _The submarine shook, throwing Erik off-balance and knocking him forward into the rails, knocking the wind out of him. The small metal cabin took on a harsh red tint as the alarm sounded loudly in his ears, and then he felt himself falling as if he was rising from the bottom of a deep swimming pool…_

Erik sighed and rolled over, extending his arm and running his hand across the surface of his nightstand until he found the source of the jarring noise. He fumbled with the thin box of his phone, dropping it twice before finally bringing the screen to his face, squinting against the bright light it gave off as he slid his thumb across the screen repeatedly. The noise silenced, and he selected the clock icon on the screen, set a timer for ten minutes, then threw the phone down on the nightstand again and rolled back over. Why had he been dreaming about submarines? He could even remember the last time he watched The Hunt for Red October… He hated that movie. Sean Connery and his fucking ‘sh sh’ speech impediment, ruined a lot of perfectly good films for him…

Just as he was beginning to drift back into a light sleep, he thought he shouldn’t, since he wasn’t sure how much of the extra ten minutes he had given himself had passed. A lot, probably.

 _I’d better check._

He rolled over and picked up the phone again, and scowled when he saw that only three minutes had passed. Had he not rolled over and looked, he could have slept a good deal. Six minutes left. What was the fucking point?

Erik reached over and ripped the charge cord out of his phone. He clutched it in his fist as he climbed out of bed, leaving it unmade _no point it’s only going to get messy again notlike I’ve got any one to lie in it_ and stumbled towards the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut behind him, shivering as his feet touched the cold tile. He set his phone down on the edge of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror, furiously wiping dried drool from the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then smoothing back his dirty hair away from his face. He put a hand to the side of his neck and tilted it from side to side, grunting as it popped. He stretched and watched his muscles flex _not a narcissist_ , looked for the usual imperfections. As he put his hands on the sink and leaned forward, he noticed the areas around his eyes were dark with sleep deprivation, which he thought was odd. He’d had a solid seven hours the last three nights. Maybe he had one of those sleeping disorders and didn’t know it. Maybe he had cancer. He decided that it was just bad sleep, because specialists were expensive, _damnit._

This thought got him started on money, a concept that buzzed around in his brain like an angry wasp   _not enough money had enough money if only if only_ as he stripped down and reached into the shower to turn on the water. Remembering that he no longer lived alone, he reached over and locked the bathroom door before pushing his underwear down past his hips and threw it into the hamper after his pajamas. He pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the narrow stall, the financial worries immediately evaporating from his brain as the hot water hit his skin and relaxed his stiff muscles.

“ _Ah,_ ” he breathed, closing his eyes and tilting his face up towards the hot water. He picked up the bar of soap from the shelf beside him, and lazily dragged it across his chest and shoulders as he thought about nothing in particular. As he shampooed his hair, he found himself staring at the wall and then dozing a few times, and thought that simply sitting down on the floor and sleeping beneath the hot water wouldn’t be so terrible. But then he reminded himself that he was a _motherfucking_ _adult_ , and that meant he had to go to work.

He finished rinsing off and reluctantly turned the water off, stepping out of the shower and toweling off. He wrapped it around his waist before stepping out of the steamy bathroom, suppressing a shiver as the cool air hit his skin. As he opened his closet and chose a pair of slacks and a shirt from the meticulous arrangement of clothes on hangers, he heard the strange screeching from downstairs. Then, like being hit in the head with a ball, he _remembered:_ he had responsibilities now. Two and a half feet tall ones, with the most annoying habits and traits Erik ever thought possible to exist in intelligent beings.

Maybe _intelligent_ was the wrong word.

As he put on his clothes, he heard the voice of the local news anchor, applause, a few laugh tracks, and then finally, a lot of annoyingly simplistic songs. Pietro and Wanda didn’t know how to do much, like retrieve their own food or bathe or anything particularly useful in life, but what they did know how to do consisted completely of whining and working a television with remarkable skill.

Erik dressed himself, leaving his tie loose around his shoulders as he went on a five-minute search for his phone before he remembered that he had left it in the bathroom.  With the extra three minutes of sleep, this left him nearly ten minutes late for his usual morning schedule, which left him feeling rushed and in a foul mood. He rushed out of his room, messily tying his tie as he descended the stairs. He strode into the livingroom with his fingers still tangled in the knot, opening his mouth to instruct his children to get their backpacks when he saw that they were still in their pajamas. Another setback, now they were all going to be late.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Go get dressed!” He snapped at the two figures lying on their stomachs in front of the television. Wanda looked up at him with big, soulful eyes before looking to her brother, who shook his head. Wanda glanced at Erik only once more before slowly placing her eyes back on the colorful characters prancing across the screen. Erik gritted his teeth together, and felt rage rising from deep in his chest, hard and fast. What sort of game was this? He slammed his hand on the doorframe and gripped the wood so tightly that it creaked in protest, which certainly caught the children’s attention.

“That. Was. Not. A. Suggestion.” He growled, glaring down at them. Wanda immediately scrambled to her feet and scurried past him, nightgown fluttering around her knees. Pietro hesitantly met his father’s gaze, and held it for a good ten seconds before Erik shouted, “Go! NOW!” The boy grumbled and got to his feet, walking slowly and deliberately past his father and up the stairs. Erik heard him muttering something about his mother as he passed, and immediately felt guilty for his behavior even though anger still surged through his veins and made his muscles tighten across his shoulders.

For a brief moment, Erik felt a pang of sadness in the pit of his stomach. His missed his former wife dearly, and at the same time cursed her for leaving him with these two children. Never mind that they were his children, he just hated that they were his _responsibility._ Erik had an intense hatred for children from the moment he was old enough to no longer be considered one himself, and simply being handed two of them that he’d never met before while simultaneously being notified that the woman that was once his wife was missing and good as dead- Well, it had been a little much. He hadn’t been the best option for a parent in the first place, and here he was, doing it by himself and harboring some bitterness and resentment towards his flesh and blood for _he didn’t know why_.

Probably because they’d been thrust upon him at the worst possible time. They took up all of his time, and they were a hassle. Disobedient, back-talking, stubborn. Well, Pietro was most of those things. Wanda seemed to just follow her brother’s lead, to a certain point, as with the scene in the living room. Most of all, they costed _money._ Money for food, money for clothes, money for the extra gasoline it took to take them to school, money for the extra water and electricity they used because apparently children just loved to leave lights on and faucets running. Erik was paid salary, and he could hardly take up a second job. The one he had took up almost as much time outside the office as his children did.

He’d been faced with a hard decision, and had recently given up all attempted budget cuts and decided to just rent out the room above the garage. It was small, but had a bedroom, bathroom, and an open area with a kitchenette and enough room for a sofa. He hated the idea of living in such close proximity with strangers almost as much as he had hated the idea of sharing his usually meticulously clean house with two children, but such was his need for cash. He’d published an ad in the newspaper and online  a week ago, and still had no response. He needed one soon, though… That five hundred dollars a month would make all the difference. Things would calm down a bit, he thought, if he could just have that money.

The guilt faded back into tense impatience and irritation, and Erik collected his laptop and work files from the study, stuffing them into his computer bag and then running into the kitchen, pouring yesterday’s coffee into a travel mug and stuffing a cold bagel into his mouth. He took his keys from the hook beside the door and walked into the garage, unlocking his car, throwing his laptop bag into the passenger seat and dropping his thermos of cold coffee into the holder beside the seat. He glanced at his watch and felt his stomach sink at the time- He only had fifteen minutes until Wanda and Pietro were supposed to be at school. He returned to the house, ready to run upstairs and drag his children into the car, when he realized that it might look bad on him as a parent if the twins showed up hungry. Neglectful bad. As much as he liked the idea of his kids being taken away, never to be dealt with again, he took another few seconds to really think about it and felt bad again. He thought he should make up for this morning, maybe after he picked them up from school that afternoon. As bitter as he was about them coming into his life, he didn’t want his children to hate him.

Eating his bagel at small intervals, Erik filled two plastic bags with cereal and retrieved two juice boxes from the fridge, setting them down on the counter before he went into the living room to retrieve the twins’ backpacks. The bags had had been carelessly thrown over the back of the couch the previous Friday afternoon, and Erik brought them back into the kitchen and placed them next to the meager breakfasts. He had to wait only a few seconds before the thundering of feet on the stairs met his ears, and soon the two were dashing into the kitchen. Erik moved to tenderly help them put on their backpacks, though he knew they were capable of doing it themselves and Pietro reminded him of that.

“I don’t want this for breakfast.” Pietro piped up as Erik handed them the plastic bags and boxes, and Erik felt his shoulders tense again. He was overreacting, he tried to tell himself, but _goddamn if this kid would just stop running his mouth_

“When you start waking up earlier and getting dressed instead of watching television, we’ll discuss better meal choices in the morning.” Erik responded with an _eat shit and die_ smile, rushing the two towards the garage.

 _Got my phone got my keys laptop in the car kids in car turn the lights off no not enough time but run up the bill timetimetime quick!_

He slammed the car door shut just as Pietro pulled hit foot up into the backseat, then turned on his heel and ran through the house like a madman, flipping off switches and checking faucets. He had just clambered into the car and turned the key in the ignition when his _fucking phone rang._ He lifted his hips from the seat to retrieve it from his back pocket, not even glancing at the number before sliding his thumb across the screen and lifting it to his ear.

“This is Erik Lensherr.” He said as calmly as he could, though his voice still had an edge to it.

“Who is it? Who’s calling you?” Was the immediate loud inquiry from the back seat, and Erik threw a dirty look over his shoulder before stomping on the gas pedal, keeping the steering wheel steady with his elbows as he tugged at his now locked seatbelt.

“Hello?” He demanded of the unknown caller, letting the seatbelt slide beneath his arm as he slammed his hand on the steering wheel when he almost hit the trashcans at the end of the driveway.

“Watch out for those trashcans.” Pietro piped up, and Erik thought how he’d like to jump into the backseat and strangle the boy with the straps of his backpack.

“Yes, hello. I was calling about renting the room you advertised in the paper?” The voice said. It was a man’s voice, calm and polite and kind. Erik might have taken the answer to his prayers a little better at any other time, but as per usual, it came at the absolute worst. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he tried to wrestle his seatbelt across his chest, maneuvering through the neighborhood with only one very distracted hand.

“Uh, yeah- Yeah. The room. Five hundred a month, get a space in the driveway, and get to use the washing machine and dryer in the garage. Oh, there’s stairs to get to it, behind the house- I mean, in case you’ve got bad legs or something.” Erik explained. In his head, this fateful conversation had gone much smoother.

“Sounds perfect. I’m actually only in town for a limited time, I’m here for a lecture series… I’m a professor, you see.”

“Mmhm.” Erik wasn’t really paying attention to the caller so much as the red Mustang that stopped at the yellow light Erik would have happily run through. He slammed his hand against the steering wheel and let out a short breath.

“Is this a bad time?” The man asked, though he didn’t sound offended- Rather, he sounded quite amused.

“Yeah, actually, it is. I mean, it’s not your fault, just-“

“One of those mornings?”

“Yes.” Erik relaxed. Normally, he hated it when people interrupted him to finish his sentence, but…  The light turned green, and Erik surged forward. “I can- I can call you back in an hour. From my office.”

“That sounds fantastic. I’ll talk to you then-”

“Okay. Um- Wait- Your name and number?”

There was a chuckle from the other end of the line, and Erik couldn’t help but wonder if he was being laughed at. He felt his shoulders begin to tense. “Let me get a pen- Fuckdamnit-“ The car swerved in its lane as Erik reached over to the passenger seat, sliding his hand into the front pocket of his laptop bag and groping around blindly for a pen. “Okay, go.” Erik steered with his elbows and left knee as he wrote the number down on his palm, glancing up at the road between each digit to make sure he wasn’t about to run head first into an eighteen wheeler or anything.

“And, uh, what’s your name, again?”

“Charles. Charles Xavier.”


	2. They Build Buildings so Tall These Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I got a lot more feedback than I expected, so thanks, guys. (:
> 
> Here's the next chapter, also unedited! (I'm speedy quick)

Erik didn’t have time for this; he was already late, and at this rate, it might just be more economical for him to just turn the car around and the three of them spend the day at home.

“Pietro! Just _get out of the car and go inside_.” Erik commanded, his tone exasperated. He watched the boy from the rearview mirror. Pietro sat stubbornly in his seat, his arms folded tightly and his chin tucked down against his chest. Wanda sat on her knees next to him, saying nothing but gently tugging him towards the open door on her side of the car.

“No! I don’t want to go to school. It’s _boring_.”

Erik willed himself not to have an angry outburst right here, in front of the other parents, their children, and the teachers welcoming the kids into the building. He wouldn’t humiliate himself like that, wouldn’t be that parent that couldn’t control his kids. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as the skin was pulled taut over them. He clenched his jaw, and took a deep breath through his nose.

“I don’t care if you don’t _want_ to go. You don’t have a choice in the matter. I have to go to _work_ , and while I’m at _work_ , you and Wanda are supposed to be at _school_. If you don’t go to _school_ , I can’t go to _work_ , and if I don’t go to _work_ , you will be cast out on the _street_.” Erik was close to ripping out the steering wheel. He wondered if he could. What a stupid question, of course he could.

Erik glanced up in the rear-view mirror to see Pietro’s reaction, and _the little shit was trying not to grin_.

“Nope,” he said proudly.

Erik tore his hands off the wheel and unbuckled his seatbelt. He threw the car into park and then climbed out, taking two steps and throwing open the back door. He reached in, unbuckling Pietro’s seatbelt and then reaching in, grabbing the squirming child in an iron grip. He motioned for Wanda to get out of the car on the other side, then slammed the door shut and threw the screaming Pietro over his shoulder. He walked around the back to meet his daughter on the other side, gently adjusting her headband in her chocolate-colored hair and half-smiling, half-grimacing down at her.

“Wanda, please show me which teacher is yours.” Erik said as gently as he could manage, though his voice gave away that he would have liked to pitch Pietro as far as he could across the concrete.

Wanda nodded, and looked around the front courtyard for her teacher. Erik wondered how long it could take a goddamn six-year-old to find the woman that she saw _every damn day_ , and was about to lose his patience with Wanda as well when she spoke up.

“I- I don’t see her. Mrs. Carmichael isn’t here.” She said quietly. Erik blinked down at her, shouldering Pietro in the stomach as the boy began to beat on his back with small fists. There was an ‘oof’ from him, and then stillness. Erik didn’t feel guilty at all, this time.

Wanda continued searching for a moment, and then pointed to a young blonde woman speaking to another parent. “I’ve never seen her before, but she’s talking to Ashley’s mom.”

“A substitute. Perfect.” Erik let go of Pietro with one hand and grabbed Wanda’s arm, taking them over to the teacher. He released Wanda as soon as they were within three feet of the woman, smiling with his best _I’m a good parent_ smile and shouldering Pietro in the stomach again when he started screaming.

“Here are my two astonishingly well-behaved children, ready for a day of learning.” He said to the substitute teacher, his voice dripping with sarcasm. She gave him one of those sort of confused, mostly skeptical smiles and Erik moved Pietro down off his shoulder, though still held onto his son by the back of his shirt.

The mother that had been conversing with the substitute before turned her head to look at him, and smiled. “Oh, you must be filling in for the wife,” She joked, waving her hand airily.

Erik snapped his head to the side, his eyes wide and his mouth forced into a thin smile. “Oh, yes, I am. The wife that left me and then died. Thank you for reminding both me and my children of that.” He said cheerily, and then chuckled and imagined seizing the woman by her shoulders and throwing her into the glass doors of the school.

“Hi, I’m Miss Darkholme, I’m filling in for Mrs. Carmichael while she recovers from her surgery.” The young blonde said, breaking him out of his vision and holding out her hand. Erik shook it with a frown.

“I didn’t know she was having surgery.” In fact, Erik hadn’t even known the name of his children’s teacher until Wanda said it a few moments ago. But images had to be upheld. He didn’t particularly want CPS to come storming into his house because he just didn’t care.

“Oh. It was in the school newsletter, one of your kids should have brought it home.” Miss Darkholme said, also frowning.

School newsletter? Oh, probably that brightly colored piece of paper Wanda had silently slid onto his desk just before scampering away to join her brother in playing pretend in the back yard. The one he’d immediately crumpled and thrown away.

“Oh. Well. I didn’t get one.” He said, and Wanda turned around and looked up at him with a look of betrayal. Erik easily ignored her.

“I called all the parents-“

“I turn my phone off when I leave work.”

 _Lying is such a marvelous invention_

“Well, now you know.” The woman finally smiled, seeming to understand that Erik could not have given a fuck if he tried.

“Oh, I’m- Erik, by the way. Er- Mr. Lensherr.” He added, remembering that he hadn’t given the teacher his name.

“It’s nice to meet you. Your kids, too.” She replied with a curt nod, smiling down at Wanda and Pietro. Wanda looked absolutely enamored with this new, young, beautiful teacher, gravitating towards her slowly. Pietro, meanwhile, was still glaring angrily down at the sidewalk.

“I should go.” Erik patted Wanda on the head and cuffed Pietro on the back of his as soon as Miss Darkholme had turned her attention to the offensive woman again, then turned and strode back to his car.

~

Erik cradled his office phone against his shoulder as he punched in the blurred number scribbled on his palm, frowning in concentration. Charles Xavier, Charles Xavier. That name sounded familiar, though he wasn’t sure why. As the phone rang, he went about straightening things on his desk- His monthly planner was exactly one inch from the edge and perfectly straight, his pens were arranged just so in their cup, and there were no personal effects in sight. Just the way he liked it.

“This is Charles.”

“Hello, Charles, this is Erik Lensherr. The one you called about the room, this morning.”

“Oh, yes! I was beginning to think you weren’t going to get back to me.” A chuckle.

“Sorry about that, I have two kids…”

“I understand. My sister is a teacher, I know exactly how children can be.”

“Heh.”

“Anyway. About the apartment, I wanted to ask if it was alright if my sister stayed there as well. We’re living out a of a hotel at the moment, you see, and we’re only going to be here for a few months. I’m willing to pay extra- Double, even-“

“It only has one bedroom.”

“That’s fine. We’ve made do with much less. Like, say, a hotel room.”

Erik didn’t know why he thought it was clever, but he did, and he laughed quietly, and Charles followed suit.

“For the both of us, how about eight hundred dollars?”

“Oh, that’s-“

“One thousand?”

“You could just find a real apartment, for that.”

“You’d be surprised how difficult it is to find an apartment within reasonable distance of both the school and the university without a year-long contract, or something of that nature.”

“Eight hundred would be fine, then.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to take advantage-“

“No, eight hundred is more than enough. Truly.”

“All right. Should I meet with you to sign the lease?”

Oh, right, Erik supposed he needed to type up one of those.

“Well, I can leave work early on Wednesday, and you can come see the apartment, decide if you really like it, and we’ll handle all the paperwork there.” Erik suggested, running his fingernail over the metal spiral of one of his notebooks.

“Wednesday afternoon sounds perfect.”

“Two o’clock?”

“Two o’clock.”

“Alright, I’ll –“

Click.

Erik stared at the manicured nail holding down the switch of his office phone, then followed the finger, the hand, the arm of the tailored suit up to her face, which was currently scowling down at him.

“No personal phone calls during office hours, Erik.” Emma said coolly, lifting her hand from the phone and then smiling sweetly.

“It wasn’t personal.” Erik growled, pulling the receiver away from his ear and reaching forward to call the number back. Emma slapped his hand, and her nails made his skin sting.

“It had nothing to do what you are working on presently, and was therefore personal. Don’t lie to me, Erik. I think you’ve gotten yourself into a tight enough place.” Emma retorted, looking down her nose at him before turning to walk away.

“Not as tight as where Shaw’s got himself- Up your ass.” Erik muttered, and Emma turned on her heel to face him again, eyes glittering with rage.

“What did you just say, Lensherr?” She demanded, nostrils flaring.

Erik raised his eyebrows and looked at her with an imitation of her small little smile, fluttering his eyelashes. “I was talking about you, not to you, _Miss Frost_.”

“Get back to work, Lensherr. And mind your own business.” Emma spat, and Erik turned away to hide his triumphant grin. Fucking stuck up bitch. Thought her job was the most important in the world because she was an _architect_ , because she made buildings look _good_. He knew better. What mattered was the backbone of it, making sure it would stand: the structural engineering, damnit. He heard her heels clicking out of the office and away to torture some other poor employee, and he decided he really did have to get some work done.

He pushed away from his desk, rolling his chair across the small office to his drafting table, which was cluttered with layers upon layers of graph paper, tracing paper, and sheets of carbon. He spent a few moments clearing up the space, organizing the huge sheets of paper into piles and throwing away bad sketches. At last, he had only five or so sheets before him on the table, and could think clearly again. This building was very much going to be the real thing- Many people asked for drafts and then, upon realizing how much their structure was going to cost, backed out. No, this one… It was going to be massive. Best of all, Erik was going to receive commission for it, if it was to the customer’s liking. And this man paid- When did Stark not? Erik’s only roadblock was that the building was so _tall_ , it was difficult to make it structurally sound. Also, he only had a week to finish it, at this point. Still, he thought he was one of the best structural engineers out there and a steadfast worker, and for a couple hundred thousand dollars, he thought it was worth the headache.

As soon as he began sketching, holding up his ruler and protractor and making those perfect lines and right angles, everything about that morning slid from his mind as easily as water runs from a pipe. His mind drifted as he drew crossbeams and columns, to a variety of things. How when she wasn’t doing everything her brother told her, Wanda really wasn’t so terrible, and was also a very beautiful child- The kind you saw in paintings and advertisements. Then to the substitute teacher, who he thought he rather liked- Or, at least, didn’t hate. To the man who called about the apartment, and how kind he sounded, and how generous he was to just _offer_ to pay twice as much as Erik was asking, offering a solution to all of his financial woes without even thinking about it. How he made Erik laugh, if only a little, with one stupid little clever comment. Erik couldn’t remember the last time he laughed at something like that.

As the stories climbed on the paper, Erik thought about how they would climb during construction. He would be on-site, of course, to make sure it was all being built correctly, that it would still be sound when they started putting in windows and doors and such. He enjoyed drawing and planning because it relaxed him and made him feel accomplished, but he loved overseeing the actual construction. For one, he could yell all he wanted- Everyone yelled over the roar of machinery. When he left the site, he was hoarse and yet utterly calm. But what he loved most about it was all the _metal_ : the huge beams and pipes, in mammoth stacks all around him. Erik used his strange ability as sparingly as possible- He hardly wanted to draw the attention to himself, or end up as some government lab rat- but when he was on site, he wanted nothing more than to use it. Throw those beams around like they were paper in the wind. Build that building twice as fast as any of those men in their bumbling, clumsy cranes could.

He longed for that metal. Cold and resistant. The way that his muscles ached when he warped it, like stretching after a long period of stillness. When he controlled it, it felt like an extended part of himself, and it hummed and sang throughout his body, the glorious feeling that no other sensation could even come close to-

He came out of his reverie when he realized that his stainless steel tools had lifted into the air around him, and were hovering and trembling above his table. He took a deep breath, and gently lowered them again, checking over both shoulders to make sure that no one had seen through the large windows of his office. He didn’t see any eyes on him, and went back to work, breathing deeply to keep himself under control. He found himself humming, and then singing under his breath as he dragged his pencil across the page.

He didn’t know where he’d heard the song. On the radio, he thought, in some waiting room. It was oddly catchy, and it swirled around in his head even as he left the project for lunch. He wondered why a company like Stark Industries needed him to draw up a building. Seemed odd, one would think they had better people for that sort of thing. It was no secret, they always had the latest and greatest, which Erik hardly was _though I am pretty great_.

He spent a long time sitting in his chair and staring at the wall above his drafting table thinking about this, still singing to himself. He had just leaned forward to start again when his phone went off, reminding him that it was three and time to pick up the twins. His pleasant mood was destroyed- He had been getting so much work done, and this was due next week.

 _I could take it home_

 _No I hate taking work home_

 _Really need to get this done_

 _You’re not going to get anything done at home and you’ll just forget to bring it back tomorrow_

 _Nope I’m taking it home definitely taking it home_

He piled the relevant sketches back onto his desk, then took the edge of them and carefully rolled them all into a compact tube. He picked up the cardboard tube he’d _stolen from the post office_ acquired for such occasions, sliding the drafts inside and pressing the plastic cap on so that they were protected. He dropped his tools into his bag with his laptop, turned off the lights in his office, and left.

~

Erik had kept his promise to himself to make that morning up to the twins, and had asked them what they wanted for dinner as soon as they climbed into the backseat of his Lexus. The immediate answer, of course, was ‘pizza’, which was followed by a chanting of ‘pizza’. Erik couldn’t help but smile. At least they’d forgiven him, he thought, and at least it was so easy to bribe first graders.

He took the pizzas and liter of soda from the acne-covered boy at the door as he handed over the exact change. He kicked the door shut and locked it before the boy could realize that Erik hadn’t bothered to give him a tip- wasn’t he paid for what he was doing anyway? Dog eat dog world, Erik had to be careful with his money. Yeah.

He thought about insisting that the twins eat at the table, but as he glanced into the living room and saw them sitting on a mountain of pillows and blankets, watching some superhero cartoon, he decided that it couldn’t hurt anything. He put the pizzas on the table and retrieved plates from the cabinet, putting two pieces on each for the twins and three on his own. He half-filled two cups with soda, then whistled to get the twins’ attention. They both immediately looked up, and upon seeing the food on the table, immediately jumped up from their nest of pillows and ran into the kitchen. Erik caught their hands as they reached out for the food, pulling them to look at him.

“If you spill these drinks on the carpet, _you will be in for it_.” He warned, and both of them nodded furiously before picking up their dinner. Pietro hurried back into the livingroom, soda sloshing around wildly in his plastic cup. Wanda, however, walked slowly and steadily, watching the bubbling liquid in her cup as if it might jump out and stain the floor on its own accord.

“Pietro! I said to be careful, damnit!” Erik yelled after his son, and Pietro only gave him a fleeting glance before sitting down in front of the television again. Erik grumbled, closing the pizza boxes and sliding them onto the bottom shelf of the sparsely filled refrigerator. He closed the soda tightly before putting it in as well, and poured himself a glass of wine before walking into the living room and sitting down at his drafting table. He carefully set his dinner down on the coffee table, then turned on his lamp and set to work, though he was half-watching what the twins had their eyes glued to.

The superhero thing didn’t look so bad. You know, you always had an arch nemesis, so you always had a purpose and knew exactly what it was. What Erik wouldn’t give for that kind of certainty. You fought, you got beat up, but you always won, and then everyone loved you for it. All you needed was some supernatural-type powers and a flashy costume. Erik leaned back in his chair, putting his fist against his chin. All he needed was a costume. He looked down at his draft, and then decided against it. _Too much responsibility, too much spandex_. Besides, those superheroes looked like relatively good people that were easily likable by the public. Erik definitely didn’t have the personality for that. Not to mention, no one actually had that much _energy_ , to go around saving people all the time.

 _Too much work_

The world would never actually be saved, anyway. People would keep getting themselves into trouble, over and over again. Couldn’t just maintain peace for any amount of time. Not to mention, the cartoons fantasized it- if superheroes actually existed, you could bet that the government would use them for their own gains, not for ‘good’. It was all futile.

After a good half hour of work, Erik had managed to finish three more stories, and also spill wine on his shirt and smear grease on the edges of his draft. He was really too buzzed to be angry, though, and checked his watch. Almost nine. He hadn’t really given the twins a bedtime, per se, but he had learned the hard way that if he let them stay up too late, they were proper little bitches to deal with in the morning. He stood up from his chair slightly to see his children over the angled table. Pietro was fast asleep beside his plate, and Wanda was… Missing?

Erik didn’t feel panic, as most parents would have. He didn’t even really wonder where she’d gone as he sat back down, and jumped as something bumped into his leg. He looked down to see Wanda, peering up at his work. He wanted to snap at her for scaring him, and also trying to get into his business, but he remembered that he had planned for this night to make up for his temper, not make matters worse with his children.

“What are you drawing?” She asked quietly.

“A building.”

“It’s not very tall.”

It was hard not to just tell her to get lost, but the alcohol certainly helped.

“It’s not to scale. That is to say, it’s going to be much bigger than this in real life.”

“Oh.” Wanda stood on her toes to get a better view of the bare bones of the structure, then nodded her approval. Erik stood from his chair, wiping his greasy fingers on the legs of his pants, not much concerned with stains since they were black and he was edging towards drunk.

“Go upstairs and get ready for bed.” He instructed, walking past her and around the couch to Pietro. He picked the sleeping form up and turned off the television, carrying him upstairs with ease. He put the boy in his bed none-too-gently, only bothering to take off his shoes before throwing the blankets over him. Tucking kids in? Close enough.

He went back downstairs, refilling his wine glass and collecting the dishes so they wouldn’t attract roaches. He threw them into the sink, and thought he’d deal with them and the mess of pillows the next day as he drained his glass. He was reaching that blurred line between tipsy and drunk, but he didn’t much care. Suddenly, he felt hopeless. Helpless.

Here he was, at some dead end job, working with people and for people he hated. All after his wife had left him, died, and then left him with two children that he also hated. Sitting in his kitchen, drinking wine out of a box. No friends. No one that cared about him. He filled the wine glass to the brim again, then walked into the living room and dropped down onto the couch, spilling wine on the carpet without really noticing. He found the remote on the cushion beside him, and flipped away from the superhero show, past sitcoms and soap operas and late-night infomercials. Drinking his wine from the box. Riding the spiral of self-hatred in his mind.

At first, it was painful. It made the muscles in his chest tie themselves in knots, and his stomach churn. His throat and eyes burned. It hurt, and he took a deep breath through his nose. Then, that familiar feeling of rage rose from the pit of his stomach like fire. He was angry at the universe, for doing this to him. Angry at Emma for making his work a living Hell, angry at Magda for leaving him and then dying, leaving him with these two, angry at Pietro for making everything so difficult, and angry at himself for letting him end up here. He drained his glass once more and as the fury burst inside of him, pulled his arm back and threw it against the wall as hard as he could. It shattered on impact, twinkling in the light from the television as the shards fell to the floor. Erik brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on the knuckle of his thumb, and tasted blood.

He didn’t know why this resentment had come on, and so suddenly, but it was overpowering and all-consuming. He would have liked to destroy everything in the house and then just walk away from it all, go somewhere to sleep forever. But he couldn’t, because he was an adult, and running away from problems was pathetic. Erik stood from the couch, shaking with rage. His body felt tight, and he was dying to just lash out at something, or someone. He knocked the lamp off the end table beside the couch with one swift movement, but the crash and the wreckage did not satisfy him.

He turned out the lights downstairs and climbed up the stairs, not bothering to make his footsteps quiet while the twins slept. What did he care? As he reached the landing, he saw Wanda’s blue eyes watching him from the barely-opened door of the twins’ room, her face turned up towards him.

“What?!” Erik roared, throwing his arms out as if daring her to comment. “Didn’t I tell you to go bed?!”

In a second, she was gone from the doorway, and Erik could hear the creak of the mattress as she climbed into bed. He snarled and continued down the hallway to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He stripped down to his underwear and crawled into bed, glaring at the wall as he ground his teeth together.

It was all futile.


	3. Properly Introduced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one has taken a bit longer, school is a cruel dominatrix that I'm forced to pay and come back to every night. Analogies, yeah.
> 
> Thanks for waiting! I tried to make this one extra long to tide you all over until after the holiday anarchy. I would like to update again before the end of break, but I make no promises. I've got big, big plans for the next couple of chapters, though!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> TELL YOUR FRIENDS.
> 
> also, I'm kind of in need of an editor, because I hate editing my work and I overlook most everything. Also someone to use as kind of a sounding board for ideas. Volunteers are welcome, thanks!

Erik couldn’t remember the last time a day had gone this well.

Wanda and Pietro had gotten out of bed without argument, complaint, or time-wasting, he had finished his sketches the night before in a fit of motivation and seemingly boundless energy and left it proudly completed on his desk at work, and now he was driving home to meet the man that would solve all of his financial troubles. The best part was, the crippling exhaustion that had seemed to bear down on him over the last week or so had all but disappeared, and he thought he might go for a run later just to get rid of all this extra energy. Yeah, running. When was the last time he even had the time to work out?

Erik pulled smoothly into the driveway, putting the Lexus into park and then turning the keys in the ignition. He climbed out of the sedan, jingling his keys in his hand and whistling as he waltzed up to the front door. He let himself in and headed straight for the kitchen, quickly piling a sandwich together for lunch and taking furious bites out of it. All this energy was making him hungry, and he thought he might actually cook a meal tonight. More for himself than the twins, but hey, whatever. He made a mental note to go to the grocery store when he heard the scraping, crunching sound of someone pulling up in the driveway, and quickly stuffed the remaining quarter of his sandwich in his mouth before rushing to the door.

He saw a blue Cadillac parked next to his silver Lexus, and watched as the man driving shifted around inside.

 _Can’t imagine a professor making enough to drive that kind of car where does he teach Harvard?_

Erik closed the door behind him and strode past the front steps and towards the newcomer, smiling as Charles rose from the driver’s seat and caught his eye. Erik stopped on the other side of the open door, extending his hand just as Charles did and they shook. Charles’s grip was firm, confident, but not overbearing or as if he had something to prove. Erik could admire that, considering he crushed the hand of every man that dared shake with him. Charles didn’t seem to have a reaction, though, and simply stepped aside to close his door. Erik thought he was quite handsome, and obviously took much care with his appearance. His hair was styled just so and not a strand was out of place, his slacks were pressed, and his coat had not a single piece of lint on it. His fingernails were trimmed and clean, and he smelled faintly of some expensive cologne Erik thought he might have smelled last time he went shopping for a good suit.

“Nice to finally meet you in person,” Erik said, his tone light and somewhat playful.

Charles smiled and nodded in return, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking utterly at ease. “Same to you, my friend.”

Erik gestured to the house behind him and raised his eyebrows, then turned and led Charles on the sunken stone path that led around the back of the garage.

“I wanted my sister, Raven, to come with me, but like I said, she’s a teacher.” Charles commented casually, looking up at the house with a strange look of intrigue.

“Are you splitting the rent?” Erik asked.

“Oh, no. I’ll be paying it in full.”

“Well then, I don’t think she has much room to complain.” Erik commented, throwing Charles a grin over his shoulder. Charles laughed genuinely, and Erik squared his shoulders and walked a little taller all the way to the backyard. Behind the garage was a concrete slab just wide enough to hold the old grill that Erik never used, a few metal patio chairs, and the iron staircase that led up to the small apartment above the garage. He glanced over his shoulder before climbing up them briskly, fishing the keys out of his pocket as he went. He had forgotten exactly which key it was, and had to play a small game of elimination before finally finding it.

Cleaning had never been Erik’s strong suit, but he’d made sure to make the small apartment as immaculate as possible: scrubbing every edge and corner until there wasn’t a trace of dirt anywhere. He’d also taken it upon himself to replace the sink and the bedframe- So maybe the eight hundred dollars a month wasn’t completely unjustified. He had spent quite a bit of time and money making the previously unused apartment inhabitable, after all. As soon as the door was open, Erik walked in, flipping on the light switch beside the door and then going to each of the other rooms and turning on those lights as well.

“I know it’s a little small… Bigger than a hotel room, though.” Erik called over his shoulder, walking into the bedroom and flipping the last light switch. When he turned around, Charles was at the door, his hand resting on the frame and a small smile on his very red lips. He gazed around the room and then met Erik’s stare, and Erik seemed to just notice how shockingly blue the other man’s eyes were. “Oh.” He breathed, forcing himself to tear his gaze away and look down at the bare mattress.

“All the furniture’s here, you’ll have to bring your own linens, though.” He said, wishing to start the casual conversation again as quickly as possible.

“No, it’s perfect. Just right, for only staying a couple of months.” Charles said cheerily, walking past Erik into the bathroom, peering into the shower and then glancing at his reflection in the mirror. “It’s very clean. I mean, that sounds like a ridiculous comment, but, of all the other places that would allow only a few months lease… It’s quite an improvement.” He chuckled, and Erik chuckled too, not even out of politeness and not even trying, and it felt good but strange, like using a muscle you never knew you even had before.

“Well, if you like it, let’s sit down and talk about the rent.” Erik suggested, gesturing towards the open living and dining area outside of the bedroom. Charles turned out the light in the bathroom and walked past Erik again, and Erik followed him to the small table, closing the bedroom door behind him. They sat down across from each other in the mismatched chairs, and Erik laid the keys on the table without comment as they both stared at the small stack of papers he’d left there the night before in preparation. Erik turned them around and pushed them towards Charles, pulling a pen out of the pocket of his shirt and using it to point to certain highlights of the lease.

“Let’s see… Eight hundred a month, just like we agreed. Eight hundred for the deposit, as well, both due the day you move in. No pets, no smoking, and, ah… No criminal activity, yeah?” Erik grinned despite himself, and he saw that Charles did, too. “Rent is due on the fifth of every month. You’re welcome to use the garage, there’s space for both cars, and also the backyard. You’re welcome to use my mailbox, though I would encourage you to get a P.O. Box, the post office is just down the street… I suppose that’s all.” Erik pulled the papers back towards himself, flipping through as if seeing if he’d forgotten anything, though he knew he hadn’t. Even if he had, he already had a strange trust for Charles- He seemed enough of a responsible adult, which was much better than the fresh-out-of-college tenant Erik had honestly been expecting.

“All agreed.” Charles responded when Erik was done, taking the pen and paper from the other man’s hands swiftly and gently, and flipping through the papers to sign and date each blank line. He pushed the agreement back to Erik when he was finished, and Erik signed his cramped, sharp name beneath each of Charles’s tall, slanted signatures. Erik pulled the two stapled packets apart, handing one to Charles and keeping one for himself.

“When would you like to move in?”

“Right now, if it’s not any trouble. I’ve already checked out of the hotel and have all of our things in the car.” Charles explained, his eyes suddenly glittering with excitement. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and thumbing through his money. “Sixteen hundred… One, two, four, eight…” He counted under his breath before pulling out sixteen crisp hundred dollar bills, which Erik took slowly, taken by surprise by the fact that _this lunatic just carried around thousands of dollars in his fucking wallet_

“Well, uh… Great. Sure.” Erik stammered, pocketing the money and then picking up his key ring, easing off the two spare keys and dropping them on the table in front of Charles.

Charles stopped with the keys halfway to his pocket, eyebrows drawn to the center of his forehead as he looked at Erik. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward—“

“No, really, just surprised me is all—“

“It’s just that- Walking to the ice machine and having little bars of soap gets so exhausting after a while—“

“I completely understand, there’s no need to—“

“If it would be better for me to move in later—“

“You’ve already left the hotel, and I swear I don’t mind—“

“ _Really_.” They said in unison, Charles reaching across the table and Erik holding up a hand to halt his speech. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Charles cracked a toothy smile as his shoulders shook with mirth, and Erik tilted his head back to release a barking laugh.

“Here we are, stammering like girls. I’ll start moving in.” Charles stood from his chair, holding his hand out to Erik again. Erik stood as well, shaking the man’s hand with considerably less vigor and strength.

“Do you need any help, bringing your belongings up here?”

“Oh, no. No, I’ll be fine. It’s just some suitcases and the like. Besides, it’s good for the heart. Strong body, strong mind.” Charles chuckled, putting the two keys Erik had given him into his pocket. Erik nodded with a grin, following Charles out of the apartment and down the stairs. As they reached the driveway, Erik walked over to his car, taking his keys out of his pocket again.

“I should go run some errands, then… I’ll be back after I pick up Pietro and Wanda, around four. Good luck.” He waved, and Charles said a quiet good bye before Erik stooped down to get into his car and closed the door behind him. As he turned the key in the ignition, he couldn’t help but think that everything was finally going right.

~

As Pietro and Wanda climbed into the backseat of the Lexus, Erik could already tell that his son was just bursting to tell him something. Still, he stayed silent all through the agonizingly slow ordeal of shrugging off backpacks and buckling seatbelts, and stayed silent until Erik pulled out of the circular drive in front of the elementary school.

“Today in P.E. we did races and I won all of them because I’m the fastest in my class!” He cried, and Erik thought the kid might have just pissed himself if he had been forced to wait any longer to tell his father this.

“Ah.” Erik said. He thought he couldn’t care any less about what speed ranking Pietro had among the boys in his class _and if he tried he just might shit himself with the effort_

This was obviously not the reaction Pietro was looking for, and in the rear view mirror, Erik saw him folding his arms and glaring out the window. Erik pressed his lips into the thin line, glancing into the mirror every few seconds to watch his children. Wanda looked out her window as well, though it was more of a dreamy look than anything.

Erik reached forward and turned up the volume of the stereo, and immediately relaxed as the rich sound of cellos reverberated through the car. Erik didn’t like much music, but he thought it very handy for filling silences or ignoring his children. Besides, classical music was supposed to make them cultured, or something like that. Intelligence by osmosis. And by God, did they need intelligence.

 _I wonder if I could use all this extra money to send them to music lessons_

The idea of Pietro sitting long enough to learn any instrument, let alone something as involved as a cello—Well, it was a laughable concept. Wanda, though. There might be hope for Wanda.

Erik glanced into the mirror again, and saw that Pietro’s eyes were shining with tears. Jesus Christ, it couldn’t have meant that much to the kid. Still, it pained Erik in some strange black hole behind his ribs, and he bit his lip as he turned onto their street. He felt like he should say something, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know where to begin. It wasn’t like he’d turned around and yelled at the kid or anything, he just wasn’t impressed by stupid first grade races. Who was, really?

As Erik saw Charles’s car in the driveway, he remembered that it might have been a good idea to explain to his children that an absolute stranger was going to be living next door to them for the next three months. He opened his mouth to begin, but they’d beaten him to it with a chorus of “whose car is that” and “who’s here”. Erik shushed them, pulling up into the driveway and killing the engine. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around to face them, snapping his fingers to pull their attention away from the window.

“Look. He’s the man that’s going to be renting out those rooms above the garage, alright? Here are some rules: be on your best behavior around him, don’t touch his car, don’t even _play near his car._ No pointing, no staring, no idiotic little comments. In fact, it might be better if you just didn’t talk it all. Yeah, I like that idea. No talking.” Erik turned back around in his seat, moving out of the car. The back doors opened and the twins each slid out, backpacks in tow. Erik thought he’d gotten away from the awkward meeting between Charles and the twins when the other man suddenly came around the side of the garage, looking slightly out of breath. Erik noted that the backseat of his car was empty save for two suitcases, and he must have spent the entire time moving since Erik left. The twins stared at him, though at least were obedient enough not to say a word.

“These must be your children!” Charles cried out happily, immediately striding over to meet them. Pietro threw one glance at Erik before hurrying over to the newcomer, and Wanda followed after only a moment of hesitation.

“I’m Pietro, and I’m the fastest out of my class!” Pietro nearly yelled as if the man was deaf, and Charles’s expression changed to one of shock and awe that even Erik almost believed.

“ _Really_? I’m quite impressed. I was never good at running, especially not when I was your age. Never won any races.”

Erik had visions of Charles’s head as it appeared now on the scrawny body of a prep school boy, dressed in the blue blazer and tie and playing croquet or some other vaguely British sport like that. He almost had to keep from laughing, and Charles glanced at him with a knowing look in his eyes that immediately silenced him. That had been strange.

Pietro seemed pleased all the same, puffing his chest out and nodding furiously as if his title of ‘fastest boy in the first grade’ was a goddamn gold medal from the Olympics. Erik wanted to roll his eyes, but it was such a different reaction from the one Pietro had given him, he couldn’t help but think… Was that the sort of reaction fathers were supposed to have? Pretend to be proud and impressed, even when they really weren’t? It seemed so stupid to him, why should he pretend to be proud? But still…

“And what’s your name, dear?” Charles asked as he turned his head to Wanda, who turned her toes inward and rocked on the balls of her feet.

“Wanda.” She said in almost a whisper, and Charles smiled encouragingly.

“Well, my name is Charles, and it’s very nice to meet you both. Soon here, you’ll meet my sister, Raven- I promise you, she’s quite kind, and loves children.” He said to both of them, clasping his hands between his knees in his crouching position.

“Raven? You mean Ms. Darkholme!” Wanda breathed, her eyes wide with surprise and excitement.

Charles blinked, then laughed and nodded. “Is she a teacher at your school?”

“She’s our teacher!” The twins chimed, and Charles grinned with them and laughed again.

“Alright, then! I’m glad you already know her! Do you like her? As your teacher, I mean.”

“Oh, yes! She’s so nice and lets us have extra time at recess and gives us fun projects to do!” Wanda immediately responded, smiling despite herself. Charles looked to Pietro, and the boy nodded again.

“Yeah. She’s okay.” He said, obviously less excited over his teacher than Wanda, though Erik still sensed that the boy liked her very much.

“I’m glad to hear. You two should go inside, but it was very nice meeting you both.” Charles said gently, standing up again and smoothing out his slacks.

“You too!” The twins said, waving over their heads at him as if they were watching him leave on a goddamned airplane. Erik gave Charles a polite smile and nod before corralling his children towards the front door, thinking that didn’t go _too_ terribly.

He unlocked the door and let the kids sprint in ahead of him, immediately moving towards the kitchen to make dinner feeling more content than he had in what felt like months.

~

After successfully making spaghetti that actually received the twins’ approval, Erik had taken the time to actually sit at the table with the two of them. They bombarded him with endless questions about ‘Mr. Charles’ and Ms. Darkholme, almost none of which he could answer. After a while, he’d simply told them to be quiet and eat their dinner, and then they could ask the brother and sister themselves. The twins did seem very excited, though, about having a pair that were brother and sister just as they were. Erik didn’t think his children were exactly deviant, and acted as most siblings did, but he supposed it wouldn’t hurt for them to have _rolemodels_ or something.

He had just put them to bed and was beginning to wash the dishes when there was a knock on the door. He lifted his hands out of the murky water turned orange by red sauce, rinsing his hands under the faucet and drying them on the nearest dish towel.

 _It’s almost nine who the fuck is knocking on my motherfucking door_

He strode out of the kitchen and to the entrance hallway, not bothering to even look through the long windows on either side of the door to see who it was. He didn’t really feel there was anyone in this world that was a real physical threat to him, cocky as that may have seemed. He unlocked the door and threw it open, ready to tell some stranger to go fuck himself when he saw that it was Charles holding a bottle of wine.

“What—“ Erik started.

“It’s a housewarming gift!” Charles said cheerily, holding up the bottle to show Erik the label.

Erik grinned and shook his head, letting out a short little laugh. He saw Charles’s smile fade a little, and his eyebrows draw into the center of his forehead with that sad, almost confused expression he had given him earlier when they discussed when Charles would be moving in.

“No, it’s a nice gesture, really. But it’s usually the other way around. I mean, people bring housewarming gifts to the newcomer.” Erik pointed in the distance and then to the floor beneath his feet to demonstrate, still grinning at the look on Charles’s face.

Charles pushed lips to one side as he thought, now looking more pensive than sad. Then he shrugged, tilting the bottle back and forth in his hand. “I’ve never really moved in my life. Besides, I didn’t want to drink alone.”

“Fair enough.” Erik responded, still chuckling as he stepped aside to let Charles in. Charles didn’t even bother to ask where the kitchen was, or even take in the interior of the house- He walked right inside, setting the bottle on the table. Erik closed the door and followed him, retrieving a cork screw from a drawer and handing it to Charles. He got out two wine glasses as well, setting them on the table before going back to rinsing dishes.

“It’s strange.” Charles said, and Erik could hear the glass of the wine bottle scraping against the table and the squeak of the cork as Charles twisted the opener in.

“Hm?” Erik rinsed the suds from the first plate, then set it in the drying rack and moved on to the others.

“The traditions society has. Utterly useless and of no evolutionary purpose, yet held in such high regard.” The pop of the bottle resounded throughout the room.

“I don’t follow.” Erik said as he finished the next plate, then pushed his sleeves up to elbows as he reached down into the murky water to retrieve the silverware.

“Housewarming gifts, for example.” The _glug glug_ of wine being poured.

“They’re just a gesture of welcome.”

“Well, yes, but it’s just strange. No real purpose.”

“I suppose it’s a way of letting people know they’ve been accepted into the community.”

“That’s a good point.”

Erik finished the dishes in silence, pulling the drain on the sink and washing his hands thoroughly. He pulled his sleeves back down to his wrists, then turned to see Charles sitting down at the table. Erik sat down across from him and pulled one of the wine glasses towards himself by the stem, half-raising it to Charles before taking a long sip.

“So, you know what I do for a living—“ Charles began.

“That’s right, travelling across the country and renting sad little apartments while you do lecture series.” Erik smirked, setting his glass back down and tracing the stem with his thumb and forefinger.

Charles tilted his head forward in acknowledgement, then continued. “But what do you do?”

“I’m a structural engineer. I work for a reasonably sized company. Right now, however, I’m doing a project for Stark.” Erik said evenly, sipping his wine again.

“Stark Industries?”

“That’s the one.”

“You must be a highly sought after engineer, then.”

“I am. I take my work very seriously.”

Charles nodded, seeming mildly impressed. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Being an engineer.”

“I enjoy the actual on site work more than the drawing and planning, but I suppose it’s all enjoyable enough. As it should be, after all those years of schooling.”

“You’re right, that’s quite a bit of math.”

“Mmhm. What are you a professor of, anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked. Genetics.” Charles smiled, and sipped his wine. “Fascinating, DNA is. Evolution, things like that.”

“Ah, that’s why you made the comment about social practices.”

“Indeed, it is. Though, I also simply like to have a healthy curiosity and skepticism for everything.”

“That’s what makes great scientists.” Erik smirked again, and drained his glass as Charles grinned at him again. There was a brief silence as they both refilled their glasses.

“Tell me, how did you end up a professor, travelling around with his teacher sister?” Erik asked, for the sake of moving the conversation along and also because he was just the tiniest bit genuinely interested in Charles.

“Well, we’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember, Raven and I. After my parents died, we simply took care of each other. She came with me to Oxford, though she didn’t study there. We’ve been inseparable for quite some time.” Charles explained. Erik suspected some sort of strange incestuous relationship, but said nothing. Who was he to judge, really?

“So your parents are dead?”

“Yes. Are yours still living?”

Erik shook his head. “They died a long, long time ago.”

“My condolences.”

“No.” Erik shook his head and gulped down his wine. Charles seemed to accept this answer, and spun his glass on the table.

“It’s admirable, what you’re doing.”

“What is that?”

“Raising both children, by yourself.”

Erik snorted humorlessly, draining his glass and reaching for the bottle to refill it. “Didn’t have a choice. My wife left me, then died, and all the sudden they were my problem.”

“They both look up to you very much, though. Especially Pietro.” Charles said gently, looking up at Erik with those deep blue eyes. Erik held his gaze for a few beats before sighing and staring down into the deep red liquid in his glass, the faint smell of alcohol wafting up to his nose as he leaned over it.

“You should go. I have to wake up early for work in the morning.” Erik wasn’t angered by what Charles had said, but it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know why—Why shouldn’t Pietro look up to him?

 _Because you’re such a goddamned terrible parent you idiot_

“You’re right, it’s late. Thank you for having a drink with me.” Charles responded, standing up from the table. Erik glanced up at him, thinking he should show the man to the door but not really feeling like it. Charles bid him a quiet good night and then let himself out, closing the door gently behind him.

Erik picked up the bottle and took a good, long drink for the numbness.


	4. Workplace Disputes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Finals are kicking my ass. It's almost Christmas break, though, which is good. Hopefully I'll get another chapter in before Christmas, before January at the very least.
> 
> Sorry if there are overwhelming typos/mistakes, I tried to get this up ASAP and didn't take much time to proofread.
> 
> Happy holidays!
> 
> EDIT:: I'm sorry guys, I'm an insensitive jerk. New tags for violence, and I should tell you now before you read the chapter that this chapter does contain graphic violence and also child abuse. So. You've been warned. And I'm sorry I didn't put something up sooner.

”Why? _Why_ are you still in your pajamas?” Erik demanded as he saw the twins huddled on the couch in the living room, fumbling with the top button at the collar of his shirt. After the umpteenth time of the fabric sliding uselessly past the button and over his thumbnail, he finally gave up, throwing his tie over the back of his neck. The twins looked up at him with confused expressions, and Wanda pulled her blanket tighter around her.

”It’s Christmas break.” She said quietly. “We don’t have school.”

Well, didn’t Erik feel stupid. This was inconvenient, the twins being at home. Who would take care of them? Did he need to call a babysitter? No, wait. Their teacher lived just next door and upstairs. That was right. He relaxed only the slightest, turning away from the living room door and going to hunt down his laptop bag. “If you need anything, go find Raven!” He called out, retrieving his laptop and drafts from the study and stuffing it into his bag. He ran back into the kitchen and took a travel mug from the cabinet and filled it with the cold, day-old coffee in the pot. Why was it what he was perpetually running late? He missed the times before he had the twins, when his mornings were quiet and meticulously scheduled. This morning, he’d already missed his shower, had to put on his least favorite shirt that restrained his shoulders because the laundry wasn’t done, found an empty fridge for breakfast and was now drinking cold coffee.

 _At least my presentation and meeting aren’t until tomorrow._ He thought to himself, making a mental note to wake up early the next day so that he could be properly prepared.

”I’llbebacksoonbehaveyourselvesifIcomebackandanything’sbrokentherewillbeconsequences!” He yelled before closing the door to the garage behind him, jogging over to the car and throwing his laptop bag into the seat beside him. He turned the keys in the ignition and backed out of the garage, barely missing the edge of the garage door as it slowly raised to the ceiling. He hit the button for the door to close again as soon as he was clear of it, then backed out of the drive and sped off towards the center of town.

He was three stoplights away from his building when he picked up his coffee from the cup holder, tilting his head back to take the last few sips when his car lurched forward violently, and the screeching, crunching sound of metal filled his ears. He spilled his cold coffee down the front of his shirt and nearly hit his head on the steering wheel, cursing loudly. His temple throbbed as anger twisted in the pit of his stomach, looking in the rear view mirror and watching as the car that had hit him hurriedly tried to change lanes. Erik was about to throw open his door and drag them out through their driver’s side window, but the light had turned green and then the offending driver was speeding off to the left and everyone behind Erik was honking their horns and moving to go around him.

Erik forced himself to take a deep breath, wishing he had at least caught the license plate number of the car that had hit him before it sped off. Maybe one of those red light cameras caught it. He didn’t have time to worry about it now, and finally pressed his foot to the gas pedal to cross the intersection.

 _just let it go you can worry about it later you have insurance let it go let it go_

He repeated this in his head like a mantra, determined not to lose his temper right here in the car and before he even got to work.

He made a sharp turn when he almost passed the parking garage, for he was so caught up in his desperate attempts to calm himself. He slowed as he entered the dim tunnel, stopping at the valet station. He seized his bag from the passenger seat and climbed out, hurriedly twisting the key and remote from his key ring and practically throwing it at the young man before the boy could ask any questions about his crumpled back bumper. He hopped across the entrance lane and to the large glass doors, slipping inside and running up the escalator. As he reached the next floor, he passed by the not-so-friendly desk clerk without even so much as a flash of his badge and strode right over to the elevator bank, reaching forward and mashing the up arrow repeatedly.

As the elevator doors slid open, he shouldered his way through the doors before they had even opened completely and jammed the glowing button with an emblazoned ‘47’ on it. He stepped back and finally let out a heavy, short sigh. The machinery began to whirr and grumble above his head, and as the elevator began to rise and pick up speed Erik focused on peeling his damp and coffee-stained shirt off of the skin of his torso. Well, this problem was solvable, at least. He always kept a couple of spare shirts in his desk. He just hated the idea of striding past Emma’s desk with coffee all down his front, giving her more fuel to mock him…

The elevator whined as it reached its maximum speed, shooting up like a rocket through the skyscraper. _An engineering masterpiece_ , he thought, _high speed elevators…_ The screeching halt of the car brought him out of his reverie, and he stepped out of the elevator and through the glass doors of the engineering firm with purpose. He looked left and right for any sight of Emma—A flash of blonde hair, the seam of a white skirt—And was sure he was going to make it to his desk without consequence when he heard the clacking of heels approaching him from behind.

”You’re late, Lensherr. You’d think, on a morning as important as this one, you’d take a bit more care.” She said sweetly, and Erik could just envision that cocky smile she had on her lips, the hand on her hip. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth and slowly turned to face her.

”Alright, I’ll bite. _Why_ is this morning so important, Emma?” He growled.

Emma looked faintly shocked, her carefully plucked eyebrows raising up to her forehead and her painted lips forming a little ‘o’. “Oh, Erik. Today is the meeting.”

Erik resisted rolling his eyes. “ _What_ meeting, Emma? I don’t have time for this—“

”The meeting with Stark Industries, you idiot,” Emma replied, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile again.

Erik’s heart stopped in his chest. He forgot to breathe for a moment. No, the meeting wasn’t for days—He’d checked his calendar—He couldn’t have possibly—

Erik threw his bag down outside of his office and sprinted down the narrow aisle made by cubicles, forgetting all about the car accident, his shirt, being late—He just had to get to that meeting, had to stop it before—

He threw open the door to the meeting room, looking up to see Shaw and Tony shaking hands at the head of the long table. Pepper stood by Tony’s side, smiling sweetly as she opened her black planner, ready to inform Tony of their next order of business as soon as they left the building. However, as Erik entered, breathless and unkempt-looking, they all turned their heads to look at him. Pepper frowned, Tony looked mildly amused, and Shaw gave Erik a grin that could have curdled milk.

”Ah, Mr. Lensherr, how kind of you to join us,” Shaw said, his voice smooth as silk. “I’ll be with you in just a moment, in my office, mm?” Shaw turned his attention back to Tony, all business once more. “It was wonderful doing business with you, Mr. Stark. I’ll be glad to see you on site come January.”

”Yeah, doubt it, I’ve got more important things to do than watch buildings be built. Say, isn’t this the guy that was supposed to draw up the plans?” Tony inquired, though he didn’t look all that bothered. “Pretty sure I specifically asked for him.”

”Oh, yes, well. Mr. Lensherr here, while one of our top engineers, couldn’t finish the drafts in time due to some _personal_ issues, “ Shaw covered gracefully. Erik felt as if someone had just thrown a stone into his stomach—What did he mean? Before he could stop himself, he interjected.

”That’s a lie! I turned in those drafts last Wednesday!” Erik cried out angrily, marching over to Shaw and raising his hand. “I turned them in on Wednesday and you told me this meeting was tomorrow!”

”Now, Erik, really, we have a client. We’ll discuss this later—“ Shaw said calmly.

”No! You lied to me, and you’re taking the commission for my work— These are my drafts!” Erik yelled as he glanced at the papers on the table. Indeed, the drafts were his, meticulously crafted. His name had been erased from the corner, he noted. His ears began to ring as he felt the muscles in his arms and shoulders tense up. Shaw couldn’t do this to him. He wasn’t going to let this happen. He turned his head back towards Shaw, grabbing the smaller man by the collar of his shirt. “You filthy, underhanded son of a bitch!” Erik roared in his face, throwing the man down on the table with all of his might. Pepper gave a little gasp and jumped back, immediately moving towards the door. Tony, meanwhile, only stepped out of Erik’s way, looking vaguely entertained by what was going on before him.

”Erik! Think about what you’re doing—“ Shaw began, a smile still on his face. He was interrupted by Erik’s fist flying into the side of his face. The crunch of tooth and bone Erik felt against his knuckles gave him satisfaction, and soon he was beating Shaw’s face repeatedly, intent on reducing it to a bloody pulp.

”Oh God, we should get security—“ Pepper piped up before rushing out of the room, and Tony barely gave her a second glance. Erik’s blow glanced off Shaw’s nose, and there was a muffled crack before blood began pouring from it, smearing across his face as Erik continued to beat him with his fists. Once Shaw’s features could no longer be distinguished, between the broken bones and the blood covering him, Erik wrapped his hands around the man’s neck and slammed his head against the table, ignoring as blood began to drip all over his carefully crafted drafts. “You bastard! You fucking cheating, lying cock sucker!” Erik screamed, Shaw’s eyes snapping open as his oxygen was so forcefully cut off. His hands rose to his throat, nails digging into the backs of Erik’s wrists as Erik pressed his thumbs down harder over the other man’s windpipe.

”Whoa!” The guard exclaimed as he entered the room, followed by Pepper and one other officer. Erik felt himself being seized from behind, one of the officers taking his arms and the other prying his hands from Shaw’s throat. Erik was pulled back, and aimed one last kick between Shaw’s legs before being slammed down face-first onto the table. His arms were jerked back in such a way that made his shoulders ache, and he felt a zip tie being tightened around his wrists as the other officer gently lifted Shaw from the table and called for an ambulance.

”This is the most fun I’ve ever had at a deal closing,” Tony commented cheerfully, and Erik could hear Pepper scolding him. The loud, angry buzz filling his head gradually began to fade away, and he realized the true weight of what had just happened.

What had he done?

~

After spending nearly six hours at the police station, filling out paperwork and being thoroughly verbally berated by the officers and then sitting in silent solitary confinement (which Erik found more of a relief than punishment), his zip-tie restraints were put back on and he was being driven off to the hospital. He was marched in through the ER entrance, led by the officer holding onto his bicep, and with a curt nod to the nurse they were let inside. Down the hall and around the corner they entered a small, brightly lit room, and after a moment of confusion Erik recognized the swollen head as the face of Shaw. Beside him stood a small and mousy man, dressed in a beige suit, wearing thick glasses, and constantly fiddling with the pen in his hand.

Erik might have tried to look ashamed, but he couldn’t bring himself to. The anger was already expanding in his chest again at the sight of his boss, and he jerked in the officer’s grip before being calmly threatened with an electrical shock. The mousy man looked over the two newcomers before picking up a leather bound notepad from Shaw’s bedside table and clicking his pen again. “Ah, you’re here. Well, Mr. Lensherr, from a legal standpoint, I’d have to say you’re very lucky. Very, very lucky indeed.”

Bile rose in Erik’s throat.

”Mr. Shaw has suffered a significant amount of injuries and also cosmetic damage—His face may never look the same again.”

As if Erik cared.

”I have urged him, as his lawyer, to press charges and have you immediately fired and banned from the premises. In fact, I think a restraining order wouldn’t be out of the question. But he has told me that he will not press charges, and allow you to keep your job, under one condition.”

”What?” Erik spat. He almost would have liked to quit then and there—Whatever Shaw’s condition was, it was all part of a big, sick cat-and-mouse game the sniveling bastard had devised, Erik was sure of it.

”That you seek therapy, and attend an anger management course.” The lawyer finished dramatically, scribbling something down on his legal pad.

Erik’s shoulders tensed. “Are you fucking kidding me? Where does this son of a bitch get off?” He snapped, feeling the officer’s grip on his arm tighten. “I’m not going to some quack that measures heads or whatever—I’m not psychotic—“

”Those are the terms, Mr. Lensherr. You can take them, or leave your position at the firm forever.” The lawyer said coolly, not looking up from his writing.

Erik was about to tell the lawyer exactly where he could put his conditions, but then stopped himself. If he lost his job, he wouldn’t have any money. He would lose his house, his car—The twins. They would probably end up in some awful orphanage, maybe be separated… As much as he hated them at times, Erik’s own experiences with foster care made his stomach clench at the very thought. So he bit back his retort and forced his shoulders to relax, though his nostrils still flared as he said,

”Fine. I’ll take the conditions.”

”Good.” The lawyer responded, flipping through his papers and taking out a few. “I’ll need you to sign these.”

Erik's hands were released from the tie, and he rubbed the raw skin of his wrists before taking the pen and briskly signing his name on each of the lines indicated. When he was finished, he pushed the documents back over to the lawyer and stood up straight again. "Am I free to go?"

"Yes, Mr. Lensherr." The lawyer said. "C'mon. You've got some more paperwork to fill out at the station, then we'll take you back to your car." The officer said gruffly. Erik turned to leave just as Shaw's voice sounded from behind him,

"I'll see you on site in January, Erik. Merry Christmas."

~

Erik pulled into the driveway slowly, a dull buzzing in his head as he shifted the car into park and let his foot slide off the brake. He kept both hands on the wheel, staring at the blank garage door and feeling his body begin to shake. How could this have happened? Why couldn’t he have just kept a level head? Even flipping his desk and telling all of his co-workers exactly what he thought of them would have been better than _attacking his fucking boss right in front of Tony Stark_

He tightened his grip on the wheel as his shock turned into rage. Anger management? Therapy? He didn’t need those, no, it was everyone else’s problem, they were so goddamn annoying- All the anger inside him made him feel ready to burst, and he took in a deep breath and screamed as loud as his lungs would allow, shaking the steering wheel violently. When he’d run out of air, he took another deep breath and added some obscenities to the mix, stomping his feet down on the pedals uselessly and twisting his torso this way and that in the seat as he writhed.

After he had taken a few deep breaths to calm himself, Erik finally left the car and entered the house. As soon as he opened the door, he could hear the twins watching television upstairs, and was relieved that he at least wouldn’t have to deal with them for a good while. He carried his laptop up to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and setting it down on his desk before walking over to his bed and sitting down on the edge of it. He slid his feet out of his shoes and put his face in his hands and felt defeated and humiliated, unsure of what he was going to do now. Shaw had only offered to allow him to keep his job in exchange for seeking help to anger and belittle him. This way, Shaw could constantly keep an eye on him, and laugh at him every day in that godforsaken office. Steal his work forever, probably. Never let him get away.

As he glanced up to his drafting table, the thought struck him that it was just all shit. Why draw if it was only going to glorify Shaw? Why draw if it was only going to be taken from him? Why do anything, if it was only going to end up with him being at the bottom of a massive pile of shit? Everyone was against him. The universe hated Erik Lensherr.

He stood from the bed, walking over to the table and picking up the pile of tracing paper covered in half-drawn beams and columns. He looked over the imaginary structure with scrutiny and held it firmly in both hands, and then ripped it roughly in half. He put the halves on top of each other and ripped them again, grinding his teeth as he crumpled the quarters into a tight ball. He threw the trash as hard as he could at the wall, but the paper bounced off uselessly and rolled to his feet. Erik felt it wasn’t enough. Destroying six months’ worth in five seconds wasn’t enough. He slowly slid his hand beneath the edge of the table, then squared his shoulders and flipped it. The metal tools clattered to the floor and the light bulb in the lamp shattered, and Erik walked over the destruction in his bare feet without care. He picked up the desk again, his entire body trembling with effort and anger, and swung it at the wall. The sound of splintering wood was not satisfying, as he supposed he expected it to be, and this only made the hard aching in his chest worsen.

It wasn’t enough.

Erik picked up his laptop from his desk, and threw it as hard as he could at the wall, the screen flashing wildly. He didn’t wait to watch it crash to the ground, instead picking up the lamp from his bedside table. He raised it above his head and then slammed it down, glass and ceramic shattering and spreading across the floor.

”Fuck you!”

He screamed, turning the night stand over. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!”

He tore picture frames from the walls, perfectly pressed and aligned suits from their hangers, the closet door from its hinges. He didn’t remember why he was angry anymore, but he had to make his point. He had to just get it out of him. Show the world the injustices he’d suffered.

 _fuck you Shaw fuck you Magda fuck you Emma fuck you Stark Pietro Wanda Raven Charles God fuck you fuck you fuck you_

He hadn’t heard the door open, but as he spun around with twisted sections of the bed frame wrapped around his hands, he saw a fearful Pietro standing there with his small hands wrapped around the door handle.

”Get out.” Erik said, his voice hoarse from screaming and dangerously low.

”You’re scaring Wanda!” Pietro cried back, shaking with either fear or determination.

”I said, get out!” Erik yelled, striding across the wreckage and leaving bloody footprints across the floor. As he reached the open door, he saw Wanda scamper out of the twins’ room and towards the staircase, but ignored it.

”Stop it!” Pietro screamed, and before Erik could stop himself, he drew his hand back and struck his son across the face with the back of his palm. The loud _slap_ resounded throughout Erik’s room and the landing, piercing through the loud thudding in his ears and making him feel as if he’d just awoken from a deep sleep.

Pietro fell to the ground, and Erik found himself breathing hard, his hand still raised as if he were going to strike again. As Pietro choked on a sob, the rage to seemed to fade inside of him, and was quickly replaced by sour guilt and then a strange numbness and confusion. He didn’t understand why his son was on the floor with a bright red and steadily bruising mark on his face. He looked over his shoulder and could not comprehend why everything in his bedroom had been destroyed.

The front door slammed.

Had he done this?

Loud footsteps on the stairs.

Erik slowly crouched down, reaching out to touch Pietro’s shoulder.

”Pietro.” He said quietly, and as soon as his fingertip touched the fabric of his son’s shirt, Pietro wrenched away, scrambling to his feet with his hand to the side of his face. As Erik moved again, Pietro turned on his heel and ran back across the hall.

”Pietro!” Erik yelled, throwing himself forward to follow him before running right into someone’s arm, knocking the wind out of him. Erik caught a glimpse of a bright blue eye before someone touched his forehead as gently as if they were brushing his hair aside, and then nothing.

~

When Erik woke, it was tense and quiet. He lifted his head and shoulders from the bed, his sore and stiff muscles crying out in protest. He was still in his room, but the bed was lower than he was accustomed to. He reached over the side and found it was only the mattress on the floor; no frame. His hands felt clumsy and stiff as well, and he saw they were tightly bandaged, as were his feet.

In the room, most of the furniture was gone. The desk, the drafting table, night stand, dresser, the closet door. The glass and blood had been cleaned up, and the hardwood floor shone in the sunlight filtering in from the window. His surviving clothes were hung with care in the closet and neatly folded on the shelves above, and Erik felt as if he was in his own bedroom from another world.

He took a deep breath and lowered himself back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling intensely as if searching it for answers. After a few minutes, he heard the door open. He immediately turned his head to look, and saw Charles enter the room holding a cup of water and a sandwich.

”I’m glad you’re awake, finally.” Charles said softly, hooking his foot on the leg of Erik’s desk chair and dragging it over to the bed. He sat down and held the food out to Erik with an unreadable, serene expression.

Erik ignored the offering, staring up at Charles instead. “What time… How long have I been asleep?” He was almost scared to know.

”Nearly two days.” Charles answered simply, pushing the food towards Erik again.

Erik slowly sat up, turning to face Charles. His stomach ached with hunger, so he finally took the sandwich from the other man. Erik set the water down on the floor beside him, and put the plate in his lap before eating the first half of the sandwich in silence.

”What happened, Erik?”

”I could ask you the same thing.”

”Well, you were in a rage, going about destroying your home, and Wanda came and fetched me just as you struck your son. Then you passed out. But what happened to cause all that?”

Erik put off replying, mulling over his answer as he finished his meal. Once the sandwich was gone and the cup of water half-emptied, Erik spoke.

”At work. Someone stole the designs I’ve been working on for months. Took credit for them. Took my work and the money I would have been paid for it.” He mumbled, staring gloomily into the water. It all seemed like an overreaction, now.

”And what else?” Charles pushed, a knowing look in his eye.

”I… I lost my temper. Was charged with assault. And nearly lost my job. But I can keep it, as long as… I go to some management thing.”

Erik muttered, drawing his knees up in front of him.

Charles nodded solemnly, crossing one leg over the other. “Raven has been taking care of your children. You’re quite lucky that it’s winter break- Pietro’s face is, well. He’s in no condition to be going to school.” Charles said matter-of-factly, though he didn’t sound particularly angry with Erik. Erik felt a wave of fresh guilt come over him, and he couldn’t bring himself to look Charles in the eye. He stared at the edge of the blanket beneath him, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

”I’m not going to report you, but I do think you should not only go to the anger management sessions sanctioned by your work, but also a psychiatrist. Your problems are more than a terrible coworker, Erik.” Charles continued coolly. If it had been anyone else, at any other time, Erik would have stood and shown them exactly what he thought of them telling him what he should do. But Erik knew Charles was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Something was wrong with him.

”What are you going to do before all that? Right now?” Charles asked.

Erik shook his head. “I don’t know.”


	5. Session One and a New Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this has taken me so very long to put up. I hope you all had delightful holidays, and relatively painless returns to work/school. I would love to have some really awesome excuse for taking this long, but I don't other than, you know, 'life'.
> 
> I've taken a bit of artistic liberty with Erik's history for the sake of AU. I would have liked to keep it canon, but that's difficult when you've displaced everything fifty or so years in the future. So if you don't like it... Well, make something up for yourself and pretend I wrote that.
> 
> Anyway. Now that I've got this chapter up, I'll try to get back to a reasonable posting schedule. Enjoy!
> 
> Warning, this chapter contains emotionally sensitive material, and possibly triggers.

“Alright, sir. If you’ll just fill out these forms, and then I’ll send you right in,” said the young man sitting behind the glass, collecting the necessary papers from several stacks. He straightened them and then aligned them neatly on the clipboard, setting a pen on top and sliding it beneath the glass to Erik.

“Thanks,” Erik mumbled, taking the clipboard and turning away from the counter, walking over to the nearest sad, seventies era couch and lowering himself down onto it. He adjusted his laptop bag on the worn cushion next to him, then clutched the pen awkwardly in his bandaged hand and looked down at the papers.

 _Last name Lensherr first name Erik birthdate six, twenty-six_ _previous health conditions no trouble sleeping yes high blood pressure no major surgeries appendectomy previous psychiatric treatment no reason for visiting by request of work issues you have been experiencing_

Erik stopped, pen hovering over the blank boxes waiting to be checked. What was he supposed to say? He glanced over his shoulder as if the intern at the window would be there to answer his every question, and scanned the sad little waiting room with his eyes before sighing and looking back to the paper. This shouldn’t be difficult. Why was he here? What had gotten him here?

_Anger_

Check. Well, that just looked stupid all by itself on the paper.

_Destructive or violent behavior_

Check .That sounded clinical enough. That was in the now, though. Did they want everything? How he had felt after Magda left, when he received the news of her death, the first couple of weeks with the twins? Even the day he woke up after assaulting Shaw and striking Pietro…

_Homicidal thoughts_

_Suicidal thoughts_

_Extreme moods_

_Feelings of Hopelessness_

Check. Check. Check.

Erik sat back, looking over his choices. God, if he turned this in, they would think he was a hot mess. Would they lock him up? Did beating up your boss and hitting your son qualify for the nut house? He tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, filling out the rest of the papers and signing at least five release forms. The entire thing was so extensive, he felt a bit as if he could be diagnosed just from everything on this clipboard. Why even go in to talk?

He stood, walking back over to the window and sliding the clipboard beneath. The intern kept chatting into the phone on his shoulder as he dragged the clipboard across his desk, unclipping the papers and shuffling through them as he made sure everything was filled out. He hung up the phone and began tearing the staples out of the release and privacy forms, making a little pile off to the side which he then handed to Erik.

“Those are yours for reference. Now, have you been here before?” He asked boredly, already taking out a folder and writing Erik’s last name on the tab.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t have had to fill out all the forms,” Erik replied, slightly annoyed.

The intern froze in place, looking up at Erik from above the rims of his glasses and giving him a look that suggested he was quite fed up with dealing with unwilling patients like Erik. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m gonna press a button, and those doors to your left will unlock. Go through those, make a right, then another right, and there’s a staircase. Go up the staircase, make a left, and there’s the waiting room. You’ll sit in there until they’re ready for you, and she’ll come out and call you.”

“She?”

The intern ignored him, hitting a button to his side. There was a loud clack as the door unlocked, and Erik swallowed his question before turning and pulling it open. He repeated the directions under his breath, not wishing to get lost in a place crawling with head doctors and psychotics. He climbed up the stairs, nearly bumping into a nurse as he reached the top.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning to the side to pass by here on the narrow landing. He opened the door behind her and took an immediate right, striding down a wide hall lined with closed doors. Twenty feet down was an open waiting area, containing only four modern spring green reclining chairs and a coffee table covered with old magazines, which was all looked over by a window above a tall counter. There didn’t seem to be anyone behind it and the boy hadn’t said anything about checking in, so Erik sat down and lifted the strap of his laptop bag over his shoulders.

He crossed his legs and leaned back, checking his watch out of habit. He was only ten minutes early. He could relax. He crossed his arms over his chest and let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling tiles before letting his eyes drift closed. Just as he was entering a state of moderate relaxation, he heard footsteps shuffling across the carpet near him, and someone sitting down in the chair across the table from him. There was some shifting, and then (to Erik’s dismay) talking.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

Erik recognized it as a girl’s voice—Faint and fragile sounding, like she was afraid of this new intrusion. He lifted his head and opened his eyes to look at her, and was slightly startled to find what looked like a human skeleton sitting where he had expected to see a woman. He suppressed a groan, thinking that he had really made it to the mad house now. Was she some sort of anorexic? He knew he didn’t belong here. Therapy wasn’t for him—It was for girls with control issues, with eating disorders and low self-esteem. He didn’t need this. He gave her a curt little smile all the same, unwilling to encourage any sort of conversation.

“This is your first time here, huh? You look out of place.” She continued, her voice a little bit stronger this time.

“Yeah.” He replied simply, forcing himself to look at her eyes instead of her gaunt body. He thought he could put his hands around her middle, and his fingers and thumbs would touch on either side. He could snap her like a dead branch. He wanted to snap her like a dead branch, if she kept talking. He rolled his neck from side to side in an attempt to alleviate the tension there.

A quiet fell over the waiting area, and Erik was thankful that the girl had given up on conversation. He resumed his previous position, taking deep breaths and reminding himself that he was only here for his job. He would just act like a completely normal person, and the psychiatrist would be so incredulous at his completely normal, non-violent behavior that she would give him a bill of good health and send him on his way. Erik was not about to waste four hours of his week every week talking about _feelings_. He heard the girl rise from her chair as a door opened somewhere on the hall, and when it closed he assumed that he was left to himself again, which was more than fine by him.

He was actually beginning to fall into a doze when someone touched his shoulder.

“You’re Mr. Lensherr?”

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to see a Latino woman standing over him with an unreadable expression, a clipboard held firmly in her hand. He blinked, then stood up from the chair, grabbing the strap of his laptop bag and lifting it onto his shoulder as he did. “Yes. And you are Doctor…?”

“You can call me Isabelle. No Doctor—I want you to be comfortable here. This is a friendly environment.”

_What kind of bullshit is this_

“Right, Isabelle.”

Erik took her hand as she extended it to him, shaking it firmly before letting his hand fall to his side again. She smiled at him, and gestured towards the open door behind him. “Let’s start then, shall we?”

Erik followed her into the room, allowing her to close the door behind him as he took in the surroundings. It was a rather modest office, and decorated in a modern style—Everything had corners, and was in black or white save for a few accents in red. The walls were a strangely comforting shade of cloudy gray, as was the carpet. There was an office chair, which was obviously hers, a red couch across from her desk, a black chair across from the window, and an identical black chair in the corner.

“Sit wherever you’re comfortable.” Isabelle instructed, striding past him and sitting gracefully in her office chair in the center of the room. She crossed one leg over the other and set her clipboard in her lap, watching him expectantly. Erik hesitated—He knew this was a trick. Which seat he chose said everything about him. He didn’t know exactly what it meant, but he was sure it was something psychological all the same, and she would make a quick judgment on him depending on where he was ‘comfortable’. Fuck this, he didn’t want to play these games.

He drew in a deep breath and tried to relax, striding purposefully into the room and falling back onto the red sofa, setting his laptop bag down beside him. Isabelle smiled, seeming genuinely amused.

“Good choice. That’s the most comfortable seat in the room.” She commented, taking a pen out of the pocket of her pristine white coat and clicking it. “Well, welcome to your first session, Mr. Lensherr. Before we start, I just want to make sure that you fully understand the confidentiality agreement. Anything and everything said in this room will remain between us, unless there is evidence of you being  a threat to yourself or others, or the abuse of a child, disabled person, or elderly person.” She said calmly, checking something off on her clipboard.

Erik said nothing.

“All legality aside, I only had the time to glance at your file this morning, and I understand you’re here because of an incident at your workplace. Could you tell me more about that?” She asked calmly, staring down at her clipboard with her pen at the ready. Erik was ready to stand up and leave the room as soon as she uttered the words.

_Normal human being normal human being get out of her as quick as possible just fake it_

“I had a disagreement with my boss.” Erik replied, keeping his tone impressively even considering how much the muscles in his shoulders were already beginning to tighten.

“A verbal disagreement?”

“And physical.”

“What was the cause of this disagreement?”

“He stole my drafts, and presented them to a client as his own. I’d—I’d already had a bad morning. It was sort of the last straw, sort of thing.”

“I think that’s plenty reason to be angry. It was your work, after all.” Isabelle replied, writing something down. Erik resisted craning his neck to see exactly what it was that she had written. “How did it become physical?”

“I grabbed him by the front of his shirt.”

Isabelle was silent, writing this down. Then she looked up at Erik expectantly, obviously waiting.

_Bitch you did read my file you know exactly what happened and now you’re going to make me say it again fuck you fuck your clipboard fuck your stupid coat_

“And I threw him down on the table.”

“And then what?”

Erik pushed his feet down against the floor and rolled his shoulders as his muscles tensed again, taking a deep breath through his nose as he stared back at Isabelle.

“I punched him. And tried to strangle him.”

“Mmhm.” Isabelle wrote this down, her long eyelashes flickering as she read over the paper in front of her. “Why? Did you think this was a justified reaction?”

“He stole my drafts. My commission!” Erik snapped, thinking that this woman just didn’t get it. Isabelle wrote this down.

“Did you feel in control, when you threw him down on the table and punched him?” Isabelle asked, shaking her foot absently.

“Of course I was in control. I was the one hitting him.”

“I mean, did you feel in control of yourself?”

Erik paused to think about this. When he had grabbed Shaw, he had intended to intimidate the man. But once he’d hit him once, he remembered hitting him again and again without being truly conscious of it. All he had wanted was to get the anger out of him. To show Shaw just what was going on inside of him. To get rid of everything before it drove him mad. He hadn’t realized that he was killing Shaw until the security guard pulled him off. The weight of it hadn’t hit him until he was taken out of the room.

“No.” Erik finally answered quietly, staring down at his hands and refusing to meet Isabelle’s gaze.He heard the scribbling of her pen as soon as he said this.

“Have you had other incidents like this?”

_You know I have you stupid cunt I will throw you on the floor and rip your clothes off and piss on your tits_

“When I got home from the police station, I destroyed my bedroom.”

“You destroyed the furniture?”

“Everything.”

“And then what?”

“My son came in.”

“Your son came into your bedroom?”

“Yes. And I told him to get out.”

“Did he?”

“No.”

“What did you do?”

“I yelled at him. And then he yelled back at me. And I hit him.”

A long silence stood between them again, and Erik began to wring his hands together and roll his shoulders again.

“How do you feel, about hitting him?”

Erik lowered his head. “I wish I’d never done it. I don’t know why I did it. I would never—Usually I—“

“Have you had issues with anger before, Mr. Lensherr?”

“I don’t know.”

Isabelle shifted in her seat and readjusted her clipboard in her lap. “Have you often felt annoyed or enraged by certain things that later on, you realized were insignificant?”

“Yes.”

“Has this occurred throughout most of your life?”

“Since I was about twelve.”

“Around puberty?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She wrote this down, then looked up again. “Have you ever received treatment for this, or any other issue, before?”

“No.”

“Have you ever experienced any alcohol or substance abuse?”

“No.”

“Do you have any current illnesses or medications?”

“No.”

“Do you have a history of mental illness in your family?”

“I don’t know.”

“How was your relationship with your mother?”

“She died when I was eleven.”

“Before that?”

“Alright. She was like any mother, I suppose.”

“How about your father?”

“Also dead.”

“Before that?”

“Nothing significant. He was just a normal father. Went to work, came home. Had projects on weekends. Taught me how to do things like ride a bicycle, or change the oil in a car. He was good to my mother.”

“After your parents died, what did you do? Where did you go?”

“Into foster care.”

“Were you adopted, or did you live in a home?”

“I was adopted after a year or so.”

“Before your anger started?”

“About the same time.”

Isabelle took a moment to write this all down, and Erik let his eyes wander to the photo of a poppy flower on the wall, boxed in by thick black frame. He admired it for a long moment, and wondered how much longer he had in this awful little prison cell of a room.

“Were you ever abused by your parents? Physically, sexually, or emotionally?”

“God, no.” Erik looked back at her, shaking his head.

“How about your foster parents?”

“How long do these things usually last?” Erik piped up, looking at her intently. Isabelle watched him for a moment, then leaned back in her chair.

“Well, Mr. Lensherr, I have you scheduled until four, but we can take as long as you need.”

“Do you think we really need two hours, twice a week?”

“Well, we can adjust it when we get to know each other a little better. Alright?” Isabelle smiled genuinely at him, and Erik frowned. “Now, back to my previous question.”

Erik crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the picture of the poppy again. Then he stared over Isabelle’s head and out the window, watching the dead, leafless branches bounce up and down in the cold wind outside. “Yes.”

“Would you care to elaborate on that?”

“Not particularly.”

Isabelle gave him a meaningful look.

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you_

“They were religious. And very strict. They liked discipline.”

“Can you give me an example of what you’ve just described?”

Erik sighed heavily, shifting in his seat and staring at the branches again. He would have climbed up that tree and jumped off the top in exchange for not having to do this. He pushed his shoulders back and thought that the muscles across his back were going to snap any minute.

“I don’t know. I can’t think of anything.”

“Well, tell me what it was like, living with your foster family.”

“It was this couple. Middle-aged. The husband was a doctor, and the wife was a housewife. They had two kids of their own, and I was the only adopted one. There was a girl and a boy older than me. And they had this house, sort of outside of town.”

“In a rural area.”

“Yeah. And my room was in the basement. I had the entire basement to myself. It was sort of a rec room down there, and my bedroom was off the main room.”

“You had a bed?”

“Of course I fucking had a bed.” Erik retorted, narrowing his eyes at her _. What a stupid fucking question._ “We went to church every Sunday. Took the bus to school. Did homework at the kitchen table after school, played basketball in the driveway, did chores.”

“So, what about the discipline you mentioned?”

“The other two got grounded.”

“And you?”

“I always had to wait for my foster dad to come home from work. She would lock me in the basement, and I had to wait for him there.”

“And when he got there?”

“He beat me.”

“Did this discipline ever result in serious injury?”

“All the time.”

“Did you ever tell anyone?”

“No.”

“Did your foster mother intervene?”

“No. She just turned up her Jesus music radio.”

“Your siblings?”

“Never.”

Isabelle watched him for a moment, and then wrote this down. Erik stared at his hands again. The tension across his shoulders had lessened slightly, only to be replaced with a deep ache in his chest and a stinging in his eyes.

_Normal human being do not cry you are not here to cry you are here to get back to work why would you fucking cry you sorry son of a bitch_

“Did you ever defend yourself, or fight back?”

“A few times.”

“And what happened?”

“He just beat me harder.”

“Did you ever try to run away?”

Erik snorted.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah. He broke my leg.”

He finally looked up to meet Isabelle’s gaze, and despite her calm expression, he could see something like sympathy in her eyes. For some reason, this enraged him. He didn’t want her sympathy. He didn’t want to be here in the first place. He grit his teeth together and crossed his arms tighter across his chest, tapping the heel of his foot against the floor in a sad attempt to get rid of all this pent up energy that had suddenly entered him. Isabelle seemed to read his body language, for she quickly changed the subject.

“Let’s get back to you, before our time runs out. Do you have any hobbies, or interests?”

“I don’t have time for them. I go to work, I bring my work home, I take care of my kids.”

“I understand your wife is deceased.”

“She left me. I got the kids a few years later when she died.”

“Do you resent her?”

“For leaving me?”

“Well, yes, but also for having your children and not telling you.”

“I resent her more for leaving them with me.”

Isabelle nodded, and wrote this down. Erik looked at his wrist watch and tried to will it to move faster.

“Do you feel any resentment towards your children?”

“Sometimes. They’re just—They’re a handful. And they were thrown into my life without any warning.”

“You feel burdened by them.”

“You could say that.”

Isabelle wrote this down, then uncrossed her legs and let her clipboard slide away from her. She straightened her posture again and looked Erik straight-on. “Well, Mr. Lensherr. I think we’ve covered a lot today, and before you go, I just want to discuss your goals.”

“My goals?”

“What you’re looking to achieve by receiving treatment.”

“Look, I just want to go back to work.”

“So, what does going back to work require?”

“You saying I’m mentally sound, I guess.”

“I think we should focus more on what caused you to have to come here. Any ideas as to what that would be?”

Erik wanted to pick up the lamp beside him and smash it into her face. He wanted to smear blood all across her makeup and put glass shards in her mouth, and take that clipboard and shove it into her skull. He took a moment to stop and think about why he could possibly be here.

“I suppose… My anger.”

“Controlling your anger? Managing your anger? Dealing with your anger in a non-violent and constructive way?”

“Yup, sounds good.”

Isabelle looked slightly exasperated, and Erik briefly felt a bit of warm satisfaction.

“Alright, then. It’s important to keep your goals in mind, as we progress through this time together. And when you go home today, I want you to just think over what you really want to achieve here. Envision yourself at the end of this process, with your anger in check. Without it getting in the way of you living a normal life.”

“Will do.”

Erik stood, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder. Isabelle stood as well, tucking her clipboard beneath her arm and holding her hand out again. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Lensherr. I look forward to seeing you again on Thursday.”

“Yeah, me and my credit card.” Erik said clearly, shaking her hand all the same and then turning to leave the room.

~

Erik pulled up in the driveway of his house beside Charles’s car, feeling strangely isolated as he cut the engine and stepped out of his car. He didn’t think the session with Isabelle had gone well at all, and he dreaded going back to further discuss his anger issues and history. Still, speaking of his parents’ deaths and his life in foster care had struck a nerve in him, and he was suddenly reminded that he was a father. Not a guardian, or a caretaker. Upstairs, those were his children. His only children. His flesh and blood.

He walked up to the house, finding the front door unlocked. He stepped inside, kicking off his shoes in the foyer and carrying his laptop bag into the kitchen where he set it down on the table. He heard the sounds of the television from the living room, and drifted across the hall to find the twins seated in front of the television (as per usual) and Charles sitting on the couch, reading a book which Erik couldn’t see the title of. As Erik entered, all three of them looked up at him, and Erik winced when he saw that Pietro’s face was still bruised. In the past week, it had taken on a sickening yellow color which was spotted with purple and blue, and despite all of Charles’s insistence that the color meant that it was healing, Erik could hardly bear to look at it. Still, he walked over to the twins and got down on one knee in front of them, reaching out with both arms and embracing them tightly without a word. He felt Wanda’s tiny arms around his neck, and Pietro at least didn’t try to squirm away, and Erik immediately felt at ease with himself for the first time in days. After a few moments, he released them, blinking tears out of his eyes as Wanda smiled at him.

“Erik, a word.” Charles said quietly, standing up from the couch and leading the way out of the living room. Erik let his gaze linger on his children before he followed the smaller man back into the kitchen, half expecting some sort of scorning for interacting with the twins so soon after what had happened. But Charles said no such thing, leaning back against the counter and watching Erik with his hands in his pockets.  “How was the therapy today?”

“It was… Fine, I guess.”

Charles looked doubtful. Erik sighed, pulling out a chair from the dining table and sitting down. “I don’t like it.”

“But do you think it’ll help you?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Was it constructive?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you accomplish anything?”

“ _I don’t know, Charles.”_ Erik growled, glaring up at the other man. Charles looked taken aback, and then ashamed.

“You’re right, Erik. I’m sorry. It’s too early—And it’s none of my business, anyway. I just genuinely want you to recover.”

Erik had been expecting some sort of fight, and was taken off-guard by Charles’s apology. He relaxed again, and stood from his chair to walk over to Charles. “Thank you, for taking care of them.”

“It’s no trouble at all, my friend. They’re delightful children.”

“Are we talking about the same children?”

Charles looked at Erik and then suddenly grinned, and the two men shared a quiet laugh. When silence fell between them again, Charles smiled and patted Erik gently on the shoulder before leaving his hand there. “I promise, Erik. Things will improve.”

“I want to believe you, Charles.”

“Then do.” Charles replied without missing a beat, still grinning and shaking his head slightly. Erik sighed and smiled weakly back at him, and Charles laughed again and reached out to Erik, embracing the man before he could protest. Erik froze for a moment, then unsurely lifted his arms and wrapped them around Charles in return. The hug only last for three seconds, at most, but Erik was so strangely comforted by Charles’s presence that he wished it had lasted longer. Charles let go of him and Erik immediately did the same, taking a step back and feeling slightly embarrassed.

“I should go get some work done.” Erik muttered, picking up his laptop bag from the table and turning towards the stairs.

“Alright.” Charles replied cheerfully, following Erik into the hallway. Erik managed to get up three steps before Charles said from behind him, “Erik?”

Erik stopped mid-step, looking over his shoulder at Charles. “Yes?”

“Relax for a bit, won’t you?”

“Sure.” Erik agreed half-heartedly, turning around and continuing up the stairs as Charles returned to the living room, his worries of the future therapy already replaced by the lingering feelings of the hug with Charles.


	6. Not Properly Secured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologies for the timing of this. I've been working on it diligently whenever I have time between work and school.
> 
> I'd like to address a question I received about Isabelle being an OC. She is not an OC, she is, in fact, in comic canon. I'm a long time reader of the comics, and though I couldn't tell you exactly what story arch/issues/whatever, I can tell you that Isabelle was Magneto's physician for some indefinite amount of time before her untimely and tragic end. Furthermore, this story will contain absolutely no OCs as far as I'm concerned (save for lame minor characters that do things like sassily take Erik's forms at the therapist's office). Original characters are fun, but we're here to read fan fiction about canon characters, not have originals forced upon us. 
> 
> Also, thank you each and every one for being so patient with me and leaving me really great and awesome feedback in the comments. It means the world to me. So, here's chapter six. Enjoy!
> 
> Trigger warning to readers: This chapter does deal with some depressive-type behavior. There is, however, no self-harm, abuse, violence, or anything of that nature.

Erik woke up before his alarm sounded, but he didn’t pick up his phone to turn it off. He wrapped his comforter tightly around himself and rolled over onto his side, looking out through the blinds over the window beside his bed. He could see the back yard, and the patio they never used, and the old, rotting wood fence that didn’t really keep anything out or in. He looked up over the sparse trees, and stared at the soft grey sky. It sort of made him ache, looking at the color and not thinking about anything in particular.

 _What the fuck is wrong with me_. _I was fine yesterday. Fuck you, Lensherr. You don’t have anything to feel sorry for yourself about_.

But he did feel sorry for himself, and he felt sorry for everyone around him. He felt sorry for the twins, having no parent but him. For Charles and Raven, for getting brought into this mess just because it was the only apartment in town that didn’t have a year-long lease. He felt sorry for Magda for ever being married to him, and actually he felt sorry for every woman he’d ever been even slightly romantically involved with. He wasn’t a good person, and he wasn’t a particularly pleasant person to be around. He didn’t want to be alone, but he always seemed to end up that way, and there was no one to blame but himself.

The phone alarm finally went off, and Erik let it keep going for a good two minutes before finally throwing his arm behind him, running his hand over the floor until he found it. He turned it off without looking, then dropped the phone and curled up again. He still hadn’t made an effort to go to the store and buy new furniture to replace what he’d destroyed. He didn’t feel like it. Driving all the way to IKEA was a pain, and furthermore, looking through catalogues and walking through displays of furniture that would never be used by anyone made him feel strangely empty. Swedish did that to him in general, really.

Actually, everything made him feel that way, lately.

He thought he’d like to ask Raven to take the twins to school with her, and lock himself in the house and just watch television all day. He had some vaguely interesting movies on the DVR that he could drink and sleep to. He let his eyes drift closed again, when he remembered that he was still an adult and had a job to go to. They were on site again today, so he would be sorely missed if he didn’t go. Besides, it was by some miracle that he even still had this job. He groaned inwardly, and rolled back over and threw himself up into a sitting position, putting his feet on the cold floor. He kept one hand on the comforter to keep it around his shoulders, and rubbed his eyes with the other. He opened them again and spent god knows how long just looking around his bedroom, thinking about showering but not making any move to reach that particular goal.

He promised himself that if he forced himself to go to work, he would skip Isabelle’s office and come right back home. He would start dinner for the twins, then go upstairs and go back to bed. He sighed heavily, and wondered if normal people had to bargain with themselves to get out of bed. Probably. He didn’t know.

The worst part of his week was having to sit in Isabelle’s office, answering mundane questions and fighting to sit still on that godforsaken couch. He’d tried to convince her to let them just go outside and walk and talk, but she made up some bullshit about ‘privacy’ and the office being an environment she’d created for patients so that they felt safe. Erik didn’t care if random strangers knew about whatever Isabelle wanted him to do next to manage his anger.

Speaking of Isabelle’s anger treatments, they were going horribly. At first, she suggested that he spend his extra physical energy on the gym. It wasn’t the most ridiculous solution he’d ever heard, at least, and Erik had started running every day and taken up a kickboxing class, but it seemed like the more energy he spent, the more he had. Isabelle hadn’t seemed pleased, and apparently decided to go to the opposite extreme: _hypnosis and meditation_. Erik had never heard anything so full of shit in his life. But she’d given him two CDs, and told him to listen to the instructions. One was just sounds that Erik was sure were supposed to be soothing (birds chirping, wind chimes, leaves rustling, babbling brooks the like) that he was supposed to ‘meditate’ to, but usually he just felt like he was camping and then when it got to the water sounds, it made him really have to piss. The other disc was just some old doctor with a British accent talking in low, soothing tones explaining the ‘theta state’ and saying things like ‘your feelings are valid’ and walking Erik’s mind into elevators that opened up to peaceful gardens with streams. This CD usually also led to him having to piss.

He would have snapped the things in half and thrown them away if Charles hadn’t caught wind of what Isabelle had prescribed, and then made a habit of asking him _every motherfucking day_ if Erik had listened to them. It was enough that Erik would have liked to snap the man’s neck, and often envisioned doing just so. Then Charles just gave him that knowing look and said, ‘you haven’t. I really think you should, Erik’.

_What is he my fucking mother Jesus Christ_

He stood from the bed, reluctantly throwing the blanket off his shoulders and back onto the mattress. Despite his usual obsessive neatness, he left the bed unmade, deciding that he didn’t have time and didn’t really feel like it. He trudged into the bathroom, stripping down and turning the faucet on. The water was freezing, but what did he care? He stepped in, suppressing a shiver as he poured shampoo onto his head and lazily rubbed his hands over his hair a few times before rinsing the product out. He picked up the soap, stared at it, then thought that just rinsing off was really enough as long as he put on some cologne or something, and threw it back into the dish. He stepped out and turned, wiping the fog off the mirror and running his hand over his cheek. His stubble wasn’t so bad, really. His hair was getting long, growing out of its cropped style.  Too long to look good even if he combed it. He ran a hand through it, then shrugged and moved on to his closet.

Erik couldn’t find anything that just screamed _I could not give less of a fuck if I tried and I would rather be burning in Hell than here_ , so he settled for some very bland grey slacks and a white shirt. Blue tie for pizzazz, he guessed. He got dressed without ironing any of the aforementioned items, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he moved across the room to retrieve his laptop bag. He left his bedroom, striding across the landing to the twins’ room and gently opening the door. They were both still sleeping in their respective beds, the room silent save for the wind in the trees outside and a few birds chirping in the distance. Pietro was sprawled across his bed as if he had just been thrown there like a doll, while Wanda had made a little cocoon of sheets and blankets around her body so that only her long brown hair was visible from the top. Everything was so still, and his children looked so peaceful, Erik felt like he was in a photograph. He almost didn’t want to disturb them.

He quietly walked into the room, passing Pietro’s bed and slowly crouching down beside Wanda’s. He rested one arm on the edge of the mattress and reached out with his other hand, gently touching the crown of her head and letting his fingers sink into that mane of glossy, chocolate-colored curls. Wanda shifted, pulling the blankets down from over her face and looking up at her father with glassy, half-asleep eyes. Erik’s breath caught in his throat as he thought of how much she looked like Magda, and he drew his hand back as the deep ache in his chest intensified.

“It’s time to get up.” Erik said quietly, and Wanda nodded, giving a small little yawn and blinking a few times. She easily crawled out of her encasing of fabric, sitting up and sliding down off the bed before turning and running into the bathroom. Erik watched as she climbed up on the footstool in front of the sink, turning on the faucet and picking up her toothbrush. Erik stood again, walking over to Pietro’s bed and unceremoniously shaking the boy’s shoulder. Pietro woke with a start, throwing his arms out as if trying to chase away some imaginary bird. Erik stepped back as he sat up, getting out of bed with much less grace than his sister. No words were exchanged between father and son, and Erik was strangely apathetic about it. Pietro’s eye had healed, and not another word was said about the incident. Couldn’t have gone better, in Erik’s opinion.

Erik left his children to get ready, leaving the room and walking downstairs. He felt far too tired to make anything adequate for breakfast, so instead poured two small bowls of cereal and left the milk between them on the breakfast table for the twins. He went to make himself breakfast, but after a cursory glance in the fridge and pantry, found that he really didn’t feel like eating. He started the coffee pot instead, hoping that maybe he was just tired and that the caffeine would help, even though he knew that was far from the case.

He retrieved his laptop, then sat down at the table between the twins’ bowls. He started up his computer and pulled up his email, immediately busying himself with the welcome distraction of stupid questions and sorting spam. After a few minutes, the twins came running down the stairs as usual, and Erik didn’t have the energy to tell them off for not walking and being in danger of hurting themselves. Maybe they should just learn the hard way, for once. They sat down at the table and poured their milk, but remained silent. Erik sensed that they were watching him, waiting for some kind of cue.  He shrugged it off, turning his attention back to his email. Some stupid office newsletter that they sent out every week for God knows why, invites to social networks he would never dream of joining, and then the usual spam from gay porn sites.

_I wonder how places like that even get my goddamn email address. Do they just have some massive directory, or has someone secretly been using my email address to sign up for subscriptions? Maybe I look them up in my sleep. Like sleep-walking, but jacking off. No, that’s sick. Think about something else._

He deleted the spam, thought about emailing Isabelle about cancelling his appointment (but decided against it), and checked his bank account out of habit. He saw in his transaction history that Charles had taken it upon himself to deposit the rent a week early, and a hundred dollars too much. That was nice and all, considering the electricity bill was due soon, but now he’d have to write a check or withdraw money to pay the difference… How inconvenient.

Erik closed his laptop, making eye contact with each of the twins before picking it up from the table and sliding it into his laptop bag. “Are you two ready?” He asked quietly, and Wanda set her spoon down into her bowl and nodded. Pietro looked at her, then hurriedly took about five more bites of his breakfast and lifted the bowl to drink the remaining milk. He looked up at Erik with full cheeks and milk dribbling out of the corner of his mouth, and nodded also. Erik stood, taking both bowls and dropping them in the sink to be cleaned later. The twins scampered out of the kitchen to retrieve their backpacks as Erik filled a thermos with coffee to take with him to work, and let the rest of the coffee in the pot sit, deciding he would clean that later too. He just didn’t have the energy for it, not today. He moved away from the counter, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder and retrieving his car keys from the pocket. As he moved towards the door to the garage, the twins returned, and followed him outside without a single comment or complaint. It was strange, but Erik wasn’t complaining—He could already feel a migraine forming at the base of his skull, and he wasn’t in the mood.

He tossed his bag into the passenger seat and set his thermos in the cup holder, then moved to the back of the car to make sure the twins were buckled in. He settled in the front seat, took a deep breath, and turned on the radio just to have a welcome distraction.  Instrumental music filled the car, and he felt at least a little bit soothed by the melancholy piece as he started up the car and pulled out of the drive.

The twins still remained silent throughout the trip, and the longer the quiet went on, the more unsettled Erik felt by it. This was unlike them, especially Pietro. Maybe they sensed that there was something wrong with him. He’d read somewhere that children were intuitive like that. He looked at them in the rear view mirror, and saw Wanda gazing dreamily out the window and Pietro digging through his backpack for something. He slowed at the intersection just before their school, and watched the light intently. He was just tired, was all. Tired and burnt out, dreading a day on site with Shaw and Emma. That made sense. Besides, it was almost the weekend. He would feel better once he had a couple of days to rest. Still, his shoulders ached as if some tangible weight had been set upon them, and he slid down in his seat slightly. Maybe this wasn’t normal. Maybe he really should go see Isabelle that afternoon.

As the light changed, he let his foot fall on the gas pedal, covering only about two hundred feet before turning quickly into the circular drive of the elementary school. He pulled up behind a suburban with soccer and dance stickers covering the back window, putting the Lexus in park and waiting patiently to hear the back doors open and then close before he could be on his way to work. He heard Pietro get out, but didn’t hear anything from Wanda’s side. As he turned to look, she unbuckled her seatbelt and got to her feet on the back seat, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Erik’s neck. Erik froze, unsure of what to do or how to respond before awkwardly raising his arm and wrapping it around her tiny middle in response.

“I love you, Daddy,” She said quietly, then released him and unsteadily moved back. She glanced at him before picking up her backpack and opening the car door, jumping down onto the pavement. Erik knew he should have said something back, preferably along the lines of ‘I love you too’, but for some reason, he just couldn’t bring himself to. Wanda closed the door behind her before he could say anything, and he watched her join her brother at the steps of the school and run inside. Though he hadn’t known how to respond, the gesture still affected him, and he felt even worse than before.

_Can’t even tell your own fucking daughter you love her too your flesh and goddamn blood Jesus Christ Erik you are a fucking mess what do you even think you’re doing raising those brats you’re not cut out for this_

He felt his hands trembling as he put the car into gear again, slowly pulling out from between the other cars and out of the drive, his throat aching as he tried to put his thoughts back towards work.

~

Erik had spent his day standing around the drafts without purpose, sipping from his thermos and watching everyone else run around like ants with their asses on fire. Why? Really, it was like all the people from the office were just here for show. They were Erik’s drafts. He was the one that was supposed to be directing this anarchy, not Shaw.

But he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry about that. He was too tired, and he felt as if he’d genuinely stopped giving a fuck. Not just about Shaw stealing his drafts—About everything. He lazily watched men in orange vests and yellow hats strapping a few steel beams together to be lifted up onto one of the higher levels of the skeleton of a building, and didn’t even notice Shaw approaching until the man tapped him on the shoulder.

“Lensherr! Look alive.” Shaw ordered cheerfully, and Erik took the last sip of cold coffee from his thermos before looking over at his boss. Erik sniffed, then stared back down into his thermos, looking sadly at the last few dregs of coffee at the bottom. Shaw clapped him on the back despite his lack of response, and Erik finally put the cap back on the thermos. He didn’t feel particularly irritated with the man, but he wasn’t going to respond until he had to.

“I heard Stark’s going to be coming around here sometime this week, so we can’t have this standing around daydreaming, right?” Shaw continued, and as Erik looked at his grin, it struck him as malicious. As if Shaw could look genuinely cheery. Erik leaned away from him, locking his gaze back on the beams being attached to cables hanging down from the top of the structure.

“Something wrong, Lensherr?” Shaw asked, his tone taking on a hard edge suddenly. Erik gestured to the other side of the work site as the cables attached to the beams were pulled by the workers.

“Those beams aren’t properly secured.” He said quietly. “They’re going to fall.”

Shaw blinked, and looked over at the slowly rising load. The beams came up off the ground, ten feet, twenty feet, thirty, and Shaw shook his head and laughed. “You need glasses, Lensherr. Those beams aren’t going anywhere. Stop trying to change the subject. Did you hear what I said about Stark?”

“Yeah, he might be coming to the site this week… Shaw, those beams—” Erik replied, shaking Shaw’s hand off his shoulder again and never looking away from the cables.

“Lensherr, stop talking about the fucking beams! I’m talking to you!” Shaw snapped, grabbing Erik’s arm and pulling the man around to face him. Erik wrenched his arm from his grip, dropping his thermos in the dirt and glaring at Shaw.  They trembled, and in an instant, the cable holding the beams snapped. The giant metal rods fell towards the ground without a moment’s hesitation, and Erik’s eyes flicked down to the workers standing beneath. In an instant, he instinctively threw an arm out and held his open hand out to the impending accident. He caught the beams just in time, his arm trembling and his jaw clenched as he fought to hold the terrible weight without even a moment’s preparation.

As the beams hovered there, ten feet off the ground, the workers stopped and stared in wonder. Erik made a sweeping motion with his arm and set the beams gently down on an open patch of ground, breathing heavily. He let his arm drop to his side, his muscles exhausted as if he had just caught the beams on his shoulders. He took a step back, turning his attention to Shaw again and seeing that the man looked absolutely livid.

“What do you think you’ve done, Lensherr?!” He growled, lurching forward and grabbing Erik by the front of his coat. Erik stared down at him confusedly, trying to pull back from the other man again.

“What?! I just saved their lives!” He cried out. His voice echoed across the now quiet site, and just like that, all eyes were upon him. Erik looked over his shoulder, seeing all the faces turned towards him, _staring_ at him, and the gravity of what he had just done dawned upon him. Shaw threw him backwards, and Erik stumbled slightly before catching himself on the edge of the table. He couldn’t understand why Shaw was angry with him, instead of standing there, dumb-struck like all the others.

“I—I—“ Erik stammered, looking back and forth between his boss and the crowd of workers still staring at him like some kind of supernatural phenomenon. He suddenly felt a weakness in his legs, and the previously dull ache in his head intensified as if someone had just thrown an axe into his skull. His heart picked up pace, beginning to thunder in his chest. Everyone knew what he was. Everyone had seen what he’d just done. Fear overcame him, and before he could think twice, he pushed past Shaw and sprinted away, over the uneven, packed earth and out onto the sidewalk. He crossed the street without looking for cars, turning on the opposite sidewalk and digging frantically in his pockets for his keys.

“Fuck, goddamn it, fuck…” He muttered, wiping the sweat on his forehead away on his coat sleeve before finally pulling out his key ring. He fumbled for a moment, dropping them on the sidewalk and swearing loudly when he saw Shaw storming towards him from the other side of the street. He bent over to pick them up, and when he straightened he saw none other than Emma, holding two coffees and with half her features hidden by her oversized designer sunglasses.

“What’re you doing, Lensherr?” She said in her usual snide way, and as Erik glanced at the quickly approaching Shaw, he decided he didn’t have the time to even warrant her question with a response. He moved to the driver’s side of his car and unlocked it with numb fingers before climbing inside, slamming the door shut behind him and turning the key in the ignition with as much speed as he could. Once the car was started, he pulled out of his parallel parking spot, nearly hitting Shaw in the process. He stomped down on the gas pedal and swerved around the man, taking off down the street without even glancing back at the two in his rear view mirror.

~

Erik threw the front door open and immediately turned to close it behind him, locking both locks and taking a few steps back before collapsing against the wall of the front foyer. He slid down it until he sat down on the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his forehead on them. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and listened to the ringing in his ears as he tried to calm himself. What was all the shit on that CD Isabelle gave him? Breathing, imagining the air around him as a calming, healing mist…

_No, fuck that! You just outed yourself as some kind of freak to your boss and every Mexican on that damn work site! You’re done! You’re through! The government’s probably on its way right now, to haul you off and put you in some kind of freak tank_

This thought petrified him, and Erik held his breath as he listened for any cars pulling up in the drive way. What if they really did come for him? What would happen to the twins? To all of them?

The deep ache that he had carried around with him over the last few days, the way he had felt when Wanda hugged him that morning, and his terror after this afternoon’s events—It all seemed to rise up from the pit of his stomach at once, and for a moment, he thought he might vomit. But instead, his eyes began to sting, and tears were streaming down his face before he could even try to stop them. He choked on a sob, and then moaned, letting his legs fall away from him and covering his face with his hands.

_Fuck this fuck everyone fuck everything fuck my life why am I here what have I done to deserve all of this what’s going to happen to me what did I fucking do to deserve this_

Erik closed his eyes and leaned forward, trying to breathe through the sobs that shook his body and reminding himself that he was a _motherfucking grown man and had best fucking get it together_. He reached down, unbuttoning his coat and wrestling out of it before throwing it across the narrow hallway.

_Why? Why fucking behave? I’m home alone. I’ll do what I fucking please._

He slumped over sideways onto the hardwood floor, curling up into a fetal position with his back to the wall. His head throbbed, and he threw his arm over his eyes to block out the light coming in through the windows. He forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath and hold it for one, two, three seconds before releasing it again. He didn’t feel much better, but he felt like he was at least doing something about it. He took another deep breath, and it was a bit easier this time.  Though the sharp pain in his skill throbbed and the day’s events were still making angry circles in his thoughts, the foyer was so quiet and still that he couldn’t help but relax. He was safe here, and what had happened on the site was in a separate world. Still, the memory of it, Shaw’s expression, everyone turning and looking at him…

His eyes filled with tears again, and he rolled over onto his side and brought his knees up towards his chest, cradling his head against the floor in one hand and curling the other against his stomach. He took yet another deep breath, and opened his eyes to stare at the baseboard of the wall opposite him. If he could calm down, just enough so he could sort this out and think clearly. Think like an adult. He closed his eyes again, and suddenly felt exhausted. His shoulders ached and his thoughts fell into a pleasant dull buzz of background noise, and he felt himself beginning to drift into a slight sleep. It didn’t matter, the twins wouldn’t be home from school with Raven for a couple of hours anyway…

Erik couldn’t have said exactly when he fully drifted off, but he woke with a start as soon as he heard a key scraping in the top lock of the front door. It took him a few moments to realize that it was probably Raven bringing the kids home, and he realized that he couldn’t let his renter-and-sort-of-friend and his kids see him like this. He scrambled to his feet just as the lock clicked and the door swung open. He slid one hand into his pants pocket and ran the other over his hair, smoothing it back as best he could as he glanced up to the newcomers. To his surprise, it was Charles rather than Raven, and as soon as he met the smaller man’s gaze, he knew that Charles knew very well what he’d spent the last two hours doing: crying on the floor like a child. That knowing look in his eyes unsettled Erik as it always did, and Erik very quickly redirected his stare to the floorboards.

“Ms. Darkholme had a teacher’s meeting so Mr. Xavier came and picked us up.” Wanda explained cheerfully, though she pronounced ‘Xavier’ more like ‘Zaver’. Erik didn’t have the energy nor the care to correct her, and quickly dragged his knuckles across his cheek bone to wipe away any remaining tear tracks. As soon as Wanda examined his face, she fell silent, taking on that solemn look that made her look so much like her mother. Erik’s heart ached in his chest again, and he couldn’t force himself to look at her any longer. Pietro strode right past the little collection of people in the foyer, dropping his backpack from his shoulders right in the middle of the floor and making a beeline for the back door to  play in the yard while the sun was still up. Erik only had to give Wanda a hard look before she carefully took off her school bag as well, setting it against the wall and running after her brother. She glanced at Erik over her shoulder once before closing the back door behind her, and he immediately relaxed again before remembering that Charles was still there. Staring at him.

_The fuck do you want just leave alright_

He thought bitterly, and Charles sighed quietly in an exasperated sort of way and looked up at Erik with a hard expression.

“Erik,” Charles began.

“Charles.” Erik immediately interrupted. He wasn’t sure why. He was hoping he could delay or even escape this terrible conversation, he supposed.

Charles paused, looking at him for a moment before continuing. “I haven’t been completely up front with you, and I think now is a good time to explain a few things.”

Oh Jesus, what was this? This most certainly was not a good time. Did this idiot not see that this was _the fucking worst time_

“I understand the incident that happened while you were working today.” Charles said evenly, and in an instant, a similar panic from before filled his brain and caused him to tense his entire body. Charles held up a hand to him as a motion to allow him to finish. “I know what you are, Erik. I knew the moment I met you, because I am, too.”

“You’re insane,” Erik blurted out, earning him a somewhat amused look from Charles.

“Erik, please.” Charles said calmly, looking to almost be suppressing a smile. “You don’t have to lie to me. I hate to say it, but you can’t lie to me. I can read your mind—That’s the nature of my mutation. The nature of your mutation is, of course, your ability to manipulate metal… Though I have a strong suspicion that it’s magnetic fields in general—“

_Don’t push it don’t push it leave me alone I’m not the only one are you crazy am I crazy today is a cruel trick the universe is playing on me just be cool Lensherr be cool_

“I have no idea what you’re—“

“Erik, please.” Charles repeated, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “I know it’s a bit hard to absorb, but after what happened today, I thought it best for you to know that you are by no means alone, by mutation or by companionship. I understand you’re quite shaken by today’s events, and rightfully so. You should know that I am your friend, and will help you in whatever way I am capable of.” Charles finished with a little nod, meeting Erik’s gaze with kindness in his eyes.

Erik was silent this time, staring down at Charles with a frown. He leaned back, wiping at his face again self-consciously.

_Well if you can read my mind then—_

_> Yes, Erik. I heard that just now._

The other voice in his head startled him, and Erik visibly jumped, though tried his best to hide it. God. Some mind-reader, living next to him all this time, another—What had Charles called it—Mutant, like him. Erik supposed he’d always known others existed… Others had to exist… His power was just so strange, so unique, it couldn’t be the only fantastical thing to happen to a person…

“Then, you know everything about me.” Erik said flatly.

“Well… Yes. I suppose I do. Though it wasn’t an intentional breach of your privacy, Erik, I swear—“

“No. I believe you.” Erik said, letting his shoulders rest against the wall. He was feeling a bit dizzy, actually, but he thought maybe that was just exhaustion. He really didn’t feel well, though. He was completely calm in his mind, but he was beginning to feel that churning in his stomach again, and thought he really, really might vomit this time…

Charles reached out and held Erik’s arms as he began to sway, his eyebrows drawing together in the center of his forehead in an expression of concern. “Erik, you should go upstairs and lie down.”

“No, I’m fine, I… I just…”

“Erik.” Charles said firmly, and Erik shook his head profusely until he tasted the bile that rose into his mouth. He quickly stopped and gave Charles a short nod, turning and holding onto the wall for support. Charles took his other arm, putting it over his shoulders and holding Erik steady with his other arm.

“This is my doing. I’m sorry, Erik, I thought it would be a good time to tell you.” Charles said quietly, leading Erik to the first step of the stairs and placing one foot on the glossy wooden surface before helping Erik up onto it. Erik remained silent as they repeated this slow process all the way up to the second floor of the house, both because he had no idea what to say and because he was scared that if he opened his mouth, he truly might vomit all over their shoes. Once they reached the landing, Charles still kept a tight hold of him as he dragged him over to Erik’s bedroom door, releasing Erik’s wrist for only a moment to open the door. Charles steered him over to the mattress on the floor, stooping down as he helped Erik down onto it and refusing to leave until Erik had put his head down on the pillow. Erik was a bit embarrassed, but remained quiet for the simple fact that he really did feel as if he was going to pass out, and couldn’t have made it to his bed without Charles’s aid.

He felt like a radio fading in and out. Charles was walking away after Erik lied down, and then he was back with a glass of water and the trash bin, asking Erik if he was alright and if he needed to sit up to vomit. Erik tried to respond ‘no’ to both questions, but he thought that all that had come out of his mouth was a low groan. Then, Charles was gone again, and he heard Pietro and Wanda shouting at each other downstairs. He had a fleeting thought of getting up to tell them exactly what he thought of their petty sibling fights and being so loud in the house, but couldn’t find the strength. He smelled food being cooked. He heard the twins’ bedroom door shut, and his room was dim. Finally, when he opened his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, his entire body stiff and aching and his eyelids heavy, Charles sat in the bed beside him, his back against the wall and a book in his hands as he read by the small reading light clipped to the cover. Charles turned his head towards Erik but kept his eyes on the page, obviously finishing up a sentence or paragraph or _whatever_ before he looked to the other man.

“Erik, are you coherent this time?” He said softly, and Erik only stared up at him confusedly. He realized that he felt cold, and his throat ached. He screwed his eyes shut, then blinked profusely, trying to roll over onto his back and finding it both painful and difficult. “I’m sorry, Erik, but I’m afraid what happened today has taken a larger toll on you than you thought. You’re running a fever, and you’ve been in and out of consciousness since I brought you up here—It’s purely stress related, I assure you.” He explained calmly, as casually as if he was explaining to Erik why the sky was blue. Erik grunted and nodded in motion of understanding, pulling the blankets that had seemingly magically appeared over him over his shoulders. As he moved his legs beneath the covers, he felt that his shoes had been taken off, and his belt as well. He didn’t question or complain—It was a damn sight more comfortable.

Charles’s gaze lingered on him a few more moments before he turned back to his book. Erik shifted, planting his hands on either side of him and pushing himself up into a sitting position. He leaned against the wall beside Charles, letting his head fall to one side to look at the man.

“Charles.” Erik said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “Charles.”

Charles looked over at him, his face illuminated in the dim glow of his reading light and taking on an oddly ethereal appearance. Erik blinked, then cleared his throat again.

“Thank you, Charles.” He said quietly.

“I would do it for any friend.” Charles assured him with a small smile.

“No, really. Thank you . I’ve never—I don’t—“ Erik wanted to explain to Charles that he’d had no such friends that would do such a service to him, and he’d never do anything like this for anyone else, and that Charles was really a godsend and he had no idea how to thank him for all this… But he couldn’t make his thoughts coherent enough to put into words.

“I understand, Erik.” Charles said, his smile widening. Erik felt relieved, shivering and sliding down slightly.

If anyone had asked him why he had done it, what otherworldly impulse had possessed him just then, Erik would have punched them in the face and walked off, but then admitted to himself that he had no clue. Regardless of the reason behind his actions, Erik impulsively turned his torso towards Charles, placing his hand on the side of his face and turning Charles’s head to face him. He pressed his lips to his in a brief, somewhat rough kiss, and then pulled back abruptly. He let go of Charles, sliding back down onto the mattress, turning over onto his side, and pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

There was a moment of silence, which stretched into two, and Erik was just on the edge of sleep when Charles said from above him,

“Good night, Erik.”

“Good night, Charles.” Erik mumbled in return.


	7. Internal Turmoil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was only written before another month had passed because I forced myself to sit down and set aside a few hours to write it. I want to update for you guys, I really do! But life is busy. You know how it goes. Spring is always chaos, but I'm going to try to keep to a once-a-month update, at least until summer.
> 
> This chapter isn't super eventful, but I know a lot of you were asking and hoping for more interaction between Charles and Erik, so here you have it. It might be choppy and rushed at some parts- It's been written all at once, no time to edit and rewrite. Please enjoy, and leave feedback to your hearts' content! Thanks for reading and forgiving my schedule!

Erik hadn’t dreamt. He’d spent the night in a warm, quiet, and comfortable darkness, and felt as if it was the first time in months that he’d actually slept instead of drifting through nightmares. This peace was interrupted as he felt someone gently shaking his shoulder and heard the sharp sound of his phone buzzing against the hardwood floor.

“Erik. Erik, your phone—“ He heard Charles say.

“Hrrrrrmgggrrrrmh.” Erik responded, uncurling his arm from beneath him and throwing his hand out to the side, palm facing up as he waited for the phone to be handed to him.

“Didn’t quite catch that, sorry?” Charles replied playfully.

“Give me the phone.” Erik growled into the pillow, grasping at the empty air to illustrate his urgency. He felt the weight of the smooth, small box in his hand. He opened one eye to see who it was, and had to tilt the phone when the daylight streaming in through the window glared off the screen.

_Emma motherfucking Frost why the Hell is she calling me_

Despite all personal feelings and vendettas against the woman, he slid his thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear. He was sure he had meant to say hello, but instead he just sort of grunted. He watched Charles glance down at him before standing up from the bed and mouthing that he was going to go next door and freshen up. Erik gave him a lazy thumbs-up, and then silently questioned when they had become so chummy and why he woke up fully dressed in a bed with an equally clothed Charles.

“I see you’ve had the sense not to show up to work today, Lensherr.” Emma hissed in his ear, and her voice seemed to remind Erik of what had happened the day before. He groaned inwardly, pressing his hand over his eyes and then dragging it over his face. He wished he hadn’t remembered until he was a little more awake.

“Well, you’ll like to know that you’re not welcome to return to the office. Ever. Shaw fired you and banned you from the premises.” Emma continued in a cold tone.

“Okay.” Erik replied, feeling considerably less concerned than he thought he should. He supposed he had seen this coming already—After Shaw’s reaction the day before, there was no way Erik would be allowed to stay at the company.

“Are you not taking this seriously?” Emma demanded, and Erik almost grinned at how ridiculous she sounded. He coughed to cover up a derisive snort.

“Do you have any idea what you did yesterday? You outed yourself, as well as Shaw and I. I had to erase all of their memories, every worker, every person strolling down the street, everyone in the surrounding buildings that saw it from the window.” Emma continued, her voice quieter now but just as dangerous. Erik mulled over this for a moment. Erased their memories? Was she a telepath, like Charles? Did they just come a dime a dozen in this new mutant world Erik had been thrown into?

“I know exactly what I did. I saved lives.” Erik retorted, rolling over onto his other side and lifting the slat in the blinds to look out into the backyard. He watched a squirrel scamper across the grass and up the fence.

“Fine. I don’t care if you don’t take this seriously. You’re never to set foot on the premises again.” Emma said, and Erik almost rolled his eyes. She was obviously running out of stones to throw at him.

“You tell Stark that the man he wanted on the project from the start not only had his drafts stolen from him, but is now fired and will no longer be overseeing the construction because he saved a dozen workers from a load of beams that weren’t properly secured?” Erik asked, watching the squirrel run back and forth along the top of the fence before pouncing into the branches of a nearby tree.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have notified Mr. Stark.”

“You mean Potts?”

“ _Of course I mean Potts do you think I have Stark’s personal phone number_.” Emma hissed. Erik laughed openly, flopping over onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, Emma, do you? Do you have Mr. Stark’s personal phone number? Does he call you to his hotel room sometimes? Do you get paid after?” Now he was just fucking with her. It felt good, actually.

“Lensherr, I—“

“Well, bye, Emma. It was great knowing you.” Erik pulled the phone away from his ear before Emma could go on her tirade, hanging up and tossing the phone beside him on the mattress. He gave a long sigh and let his eyes drift closed again. He knew that he just lost his job and maybe ended his career completely with a single burnt bridge, but he couldn’t quite let it sink in. Knowing that he would never have to walk into that office, never have to see Shaw’s stupid grin or have Emma making snide comments over his shoulder ever again… It made him feel so free. Sure, he would have to get a job eventually, but right now, he could do anything he wanted. He could go check the kids out of school early and take them to the zoo. He could go to the mall and blow money on new suits and sunglasses. He could take himself out to dinner, and pick up women at a bar for rich businessmen. He could go to Shaw’s house and set his motherfucking car on fire.

He savored the last image, especially the part where Shaw ran out of his house screaming, his face contorted in fear and rage as he watched his luxury sedan go up in flames. Erik felt a small smile spread across his face, and he folded his hands just below his sternum and basked in the strips of sunlight that fell across him through the blinds. The house was quiet, the room still, and he was a free man. With his new freedom, he decided to sleep another hour.

Erik drifted along the edges of sleep until he heard the front door close from downstairs. He yawned, and began to doze off again when he sensed someone nearby. He forced his eyes to open, looking up just as Charles was lowering himself down onto the mattress again. The man sat beside Erik in the same position that he had been in when Erik woke the night before, carefully moving Erik’s phone from underneath his legs and moving to put it back on the charger beside the bed. Erik saw that his hair was damp and that he had changed clothes. He smelled faintly of ivory soap and some expensive after shave that Erik was sure he had smelled only in department stores.

“If you don’t mind me asking—“

“She told me I was fired and banned from the premises.” Erik replied before Charles could even complete his question. Charles gave him a hard look, and Erik stared at the seam along the side of Charles’s leg. Nice stitching. Quality fabric. Must have been an expensive pair of pants.

“You don’t seem very concerned.”

“I’m not. I know I should be. Mostly I just feel…” Erik paused as he tried to think of a word to describe how he felt.

“Relieved?” Charles suggested.

“That’s close. Not quite it, though.” Erik replied, reaching up and rubbing the stubble on the side of his face. He silently wondered how long it had been since he’d cared enough to shave. He felt rough and grimy, having not taken proper maintenance of himself since this stage of uncaring had begun. Sitting next to Charles, clean and shaven, didn’t help either. The two sat in silence for a long time before Erik sat up, climbing over Charles and yanking his phone off the charger.

“Gonna shower.” He said gruffly, stifling another yawn.

“Do you want me to leave?” Charles asked politely, already reaching for the book that he had been reading the night before.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it.” Erik said with a dismissive wave of his hand, retrieving a shirt and the only pair of jeans he owned from his dresser (one of the only pieces of furniture that had survived his little incident) before going into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He didn’t bother to lock it—The kids weren’t home, and it wasn’t like Charles was going to barge in on him, right?

_Though maybe you’d like that Lensherr_

Erik quickly silenced that thought, tossing his clothes on the edge of the sink and carefully placing his phone on top of them before reaching into the shower and turning on the water.

_Do you know how long it’s been since you got any Lensherr I mean really you wouldn’t have to go to a fucking head doctor if you just got your dick in someone_

Erik pushed these thoughts down yet again, unbuttoning his slacks and pushing them down his hips with his underwear, throwing them carelessly into the clothes hamper. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, then peeled his undershirt from his torso and took a good look in the mirror. God, he was a fucking train wreck. He debated whether to shave before or after the shower, and if he really wanted to chance giving himself a haircut. Erik wasn’t exactly the type to spend hundreds of dollars for a simple trim, but he also didn’t exactly trust his skill with a pair of scissors. He frowned, pushing his hair back away from his forehead. It almost touched the tops of his ears on the sides, which was odd for him. He hadn’t let it grow out this long in years. Still, with it pushed back, it had sort of a suave effect he supposed. He could just do that until he had the time to go get a haircut.

Wait, he didn’t have a job.

He could go get it cut today, if he wanted to.

He mulled over this as he stepped into the shower, ignoring the near-scalding temperature of the water. It felt good on the sore muscles in his neck and shoulders, and he allowed himself to simply stand underneath the showerhead for a solid ten minutes before reaching for the shampoo bottle. He poured it directly on his head before closing the cap and setting it back down on the shelf, then reached up and furiously scrubbed his head, running his fingernails over his scalp and smoothing the product through his hair until he was confident that he’d washed every single hair on his head. He leaned back and let the water run over his head as he blindly reached for the soap bar, quickly lathering up before tossing the bar back into the dish and standing underneath the water to rinse.

As the water ran over his back, Erik found himself staring at the tiles on the wall opposite of him, thinking about the previous day’s events. Everything had happened so quickly, it seemed otherworldly. Erik remembered getting up, and going to the site. He remembered being out of coffee, for some strange reason. Shaw talking to him, the weight of the beams, running to his car. But after that, it was sort of a blur. He remembered coming home upset… Charles helping him up the stairs… Something about a fever. But kissing Charles. He definitely remembered that, and at the memory he felt his stomach twist and drop in embarrassment. What had he been thinking? Erik had never even toyed with the idea of being a homosexual. As far as he could remember having a sex drive, he had been decidedly heterosexual and never questioned it. He liked women with long, dark hair and red lips and hips that swayed ever so slightly when they walked. Women that were soft to the touch, and spoke in quiet, even tones that he had to lean in to hear, woman that looked up at him from underneath their eyelashes with a glint in their eyes like they knew something he didn’t—

He cut off the train of thought there, groaning inwardly and pinching the bridge of his nose. Thinking about beautiful women wasn’t helping his current situation. He decided he would simply confront Charles about it, and apologize. Erik didn’t particularly like swallowing his pride and saying sorry, but for some reason this felt a bit less humble and humiliating, since he felt so disconnected from his actions. He would say it was just the fever. He was slightly delirious. Yeah, that sounded like a strong enough excuse.

He turned the knob above the faucet until the water slowed and then ceased completely, stepping out of the shower and pulling a towel off the rack beside the sink. He threw it over his head and dried his hair, then toweled off the rest of his body before folding it around his hips. He wiped steam from the mirror with the back of his forearm, reaching up and running his fingers over the stubble covering his jaw again. After rummaging through the medicine cabinet for a new razor and his half-empty can of cream, he made quick but careful work of shaving, making sure to catch every stray hair behind the blade. When he was satisfied, he wiped off the excess shaving cream and brushed his hand over his now smooth skin a few times, tossing the razor onto the edge of the sink. He picked up his cotton t-shirt, pulling it over his head before smoothing his damp hair back from his face. After letting the towel fall to the floor, he stepped into his underwear and then his jeans, and as he buttoned them he couldn’t help but feel that this was the cleanest and most coherent he’d felt in a while.

He slid his phone into his back pocket before opening the door again, the cold air of the bedroom hitting him like a strong wind and making his face sting slightly. He saw Charles sitting exactly where Erik has left him—On one side of the mattress, reading silently. Erik watched Charles for a moment, as if waiting for the reason that Erik had kissed him to reveal itself. Obviously, it didn’t, and Charles only closed the book on his thumb to hold his place as he looked over to Erik, a lock of dark brown hair falling out of place and across his forehead.

“Something wrong, Erik? I mean, besides the obvious difficulties you’ve faced this morning.” Charles asked softly, and Erik could barely hear it across the room.

“Yes. I mean.. No. But… I do need to talk to you.” Erik replied unsurely, flipping the light switch on the bathroom wall before striding over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of it so that his right side was to Charles, bringing his knees up and resting his elbows on top of them. He took a deep breath and looked at Charles, staring at him for a moment before looking down at his hands again. Charles set his book aside and moved to sit beside Erik, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles.

“About last night…” Erik began, forcing himself to look at Charles’s face. He watched as Charles’s tongue glided across his lower lip before he spoke.

“You were feverish, Erik. I know.” Charles responded kindly. Erik knew he should have felt relieved that Charles understood, but he couldn’t help but sense that it was far from resolved.

“Right. I’m sorry about that.” Erik quickly replied, tearing his gaze away from Charles’s mouth and examining the thin line of dirt underneath his fingernails instead.

“Oh, you don’t have to be sorry.” Charles said lightly, actually sounding somewhat amused.

“What does that mean?” Erik demanded. Charles looked slightly taken aback, but relaxed once more.

“It means that it wasn’t altogether unpleasant, or unwelcome.” Charles explained calmly, looking at Erik with a softness in his eyes. “Look, Erik, I understand that you’re contending with a great bit of internal turmoil at the moment, but if it’s any consolation, I don’t think it was sexually motivated. There’s no need to go on questioning every vaguely romantic encounter you’ve ever had.”

Erik froze, then suppressed a grin. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to the ‘reading my mind’ thing.”

Charles chuckled. “I try not to, but you just think so _loudly_. I mean, all of your thoughts and feelings, they’re so strong and resilient—It’s like trying to ignore a twenty foot wall that’s right in front of you.”

Erik allowed himself a quiet little laugh, but quickly returned his attention to his fingernails, now occupying himself with trying to dig the dirt out from underneath. They sat in silence for a few moments, Charles staring off into space quite serenely while Erik glared at his hands.

“If it wasn’t sexual, what was it?” Erik piped up, though he didn’t look away from his nails. He felt like some kind of clueless adolescent, going around kissing girls and talking about feelings for the first time. He felt immature, and stupid. Having this conversation was uncomfortable and embarrassing.

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know, Erik. Affection, I suppose. I mean, I had been taking care of you and the twins all day, and made sure you were alright through the night. I would have felt loving towards someone, had they done that for me. Besides, it’s not as if we’re strangers. We’ve practically all become one household with just the stairs behind the garage separating us.” Charles replied, and Erik could sense that the smaller man was watching him.

“Loving.” Erik snorted.

“What? You don’t believe love moves people do to uncharacteristic things?” Charles inquired, sounding playful and amused again.

“I don’t think people actually love each other. It’s just a chemical response, in the brain or whatever.” Erik pointed to his temple to illustrate his point. “Evolutionary. If humans didn’t think they were in love with each other, they wouldn’t have kids and protect each other, would they?”

“Ahhh, so you’re one of those that don’t believe in love.” Charles concluded, and as Erik glanced over to him, he saw a smile spread across Charles’s face and a spark of knowing flash in his eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s fair of you to come to that conclusion, considering. But at the same time…”

“What?” Erik asked, sitting up slightly as his eyebrows drew together in the center of his forehead.

“Erik, would you risk your life to save Pietro or Wanda’s?” Charles asked casually.

“Of course I would. That’s what parents do.” Erik retorted, thinking the question was quite stupid.

Charles didn’t seem exactly satisfied with this answer. “Alright, perhaps a better question would be, why did you ever marry your late wife?”

Erik looked down at the floor and shrugged. For a brief moment, he felt the familiar ache in his chest, but it quickly turned into numbness. Erik refused to let those feelings creep up on him now. “I don’t know.” He mumbled. “I suppose I thought I was in love with her.”

“But you weren’t?”

“She left me, don’t you know that?” Erik quickly replied, turning towards Charles. “This mutant thing. She despised me for what I was.” Erik gestured vaguely towards his own chest, and he saw a look of sorrow come over Charles’s face. He thought there were tears shining in the man’s eyes, but he didn’t linger on it.

“But all the pain you felt, after she left… You don’t think that was love? The longing to be loved in return?” Charles asked, his voice even softer now.

“I think it was a poor sap getting left by his wife and hating himself for what he was and what happened between them.” Erik grumbled. “What is it with you and love, anyway?”

“Oh, Erik. Everyone loves. And everyone deserves to be loved in return.” Charles answered, his voice stronger now. Full of conviction, Erik thought. It was very dramatic of him, to go on thinking things like that, and Erik was torn between buying into it and rolling his eyes. This was the kind of talk Erik expected to hear from young women that had recently been engaged, not a grown man with a PhD.

They fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence again, and Charles was the one to break it this time. “All I’m saying is… You’re just as capable of loving as anybody else, Erik. And I think that’s what motivated your actions last night.”

“Maybe I should go to you instead of Isabelle.” Erik retorted. For a brief moment, he worried that he’d hurt Charles’s feeling with his sharp reply—Until Charles chuckled again.

“Oh, Erik, don’t be absurd. I’m just a geneticist. Just because I can read minds doesn’t mean I have anything on professional psychiatrists. Because I don’t. Really.” Charles laughed again, and Erik watched him and smiled himself. It amazed him, how Charles seemed to be nothing but empathy and cheeriness. Could a person just be those two things forever? He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Charles angry, or self-pitying, or resentful. He’d done nothing but help Erik since he came here—Offering to pay double the rent, taking care of the twins when Erik couldn’t, being an absolute friend and confidant to Erik… Erik felt bad that he had never really given Charles anything in return. What sort of friend was he?

_What a stupid fucking question you’ve never had any goddamn friends_

Erik took his elbows off of his knees and let his legs relax, feet sliding forward across the floor. Charles was staring at the ceiling with unfocussed eyes again, having obviously retreated into his own thoughts. The lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead early now shifted back into the perfect little wave just over his temple, and Erik was overcome with how much he would have liked to run his hands through that dark brown hair; twist it in his fingers, hold Charles by it as Erik kissed him. Erik began to wring his hands in his lap, torn between his established heterosexuality and this new realization of how much he really felt for Charles.

Erik tensed, hesitated, and then turned towards Charles, placing a hand on his shoulder. Charles seemed to wake from his daze, but said nothing even as Erik leaned in and pressed his lips over Charles’s. He held still for a moment before he felt Charles kissing him in return, and before he knew it, he had his other hand in Charles’s hair, pushing him back by his shoulder until he was down on the mattress. In one swift motion, Erik turned over, his knees on either side of Charles’s hips as he hovered over the smaller man. He leaned down into another kiss and felt Charles’s left hand on the side of his face and the other pressed against his sternum. Charles’s lips parted slightly, and Erik could faintly taste mint as he ran his tongue over the inner edge of Charles’s lower lip. Charles’s hand slid down from Erik’s chest towards the waistband of his jeans, and Erik deepened the kiss and tightened his grip on Charles’s hair, his heart hammering wildly in his chest before he—

Erik’s phone went off in his back pocket, breaking the quiet rhythm of heavy breathing that the two had created. Erik froze in place, seeming to just now come back to reality and realize exactly what he was doing. He pulled back, looking down at Charles. There was a rosy color across his cheekbones and his lips seemed redder than usual, slightly parted and making him look oh so sensual as he stared intensely up at Erik with those blue eyes—

_Didn’t we just discuss this in the shower Lensherr jesus Christ you’re not some kind of fucking gay whatever what are you doing_

“Sorry.” Erik straightened, awkwardly climbing off of Charles as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen flashed a number that he was altogether unfamiliar with, and Erik quickly swiped his thumb across the screen and lifted it to his ear.

“This is Erik Lensherr.” He greeted somewhat breathlessly.

“Lensherr! Pepper just told me that Shaw fired you.” Tony Stark replied, and Erik heard the revving of an engine in the background. What was this? Why was Tony Stark calling him? How did Stark even get his number?

“Um… Yes.” Erik replied unsurely.

“Yeah. So, I was thinking, jobs are pretty hard to come by for you people these days and I need a new head engineer here at Stark Industries. I was going to have Potts call you, but she still hadn’t quite gotten over the time you beat the shit out of that guy in the conference room. Plus, this is a big offer, and I had time.” Tony replied, talking fast and sounding reasonably excited.

“Yeah…” Erik wasn’t really sure what to say. Was Stark insinuating what Erik thought he was insinuating?

“So what do you say? I’ll pay you three times your salary now, I know of some prime real estate you could buy here in California, and I promise not to steal your shit and call it mine.” Tony asked impatiently, and Erik heard the engine again followed by a loud bang, as if it had backfired.

“Move… To California? To work for Stark Industries?” Erik attempted to confirm what he had just heard. He felt Charles sit up beside him on the bed, and sensed him listening to Erik’s conversation.

“Damn, Lensherr, I thought you were bright. You, move here to California, work for Stark Industries as one of our head engineers. Three times your current salary. Great real estate. And we’ll see what we can do about that Shaw asshole, too, while we’re at it.” Tony reiterated. “ Let’s be honest. You’d be crazy to turn it down, Lensherr.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I would be.” Erik agreed, feeling just as disconnected from the conversation as he had with the outside world the night before. “I’ll… Sounds great.” Erik admitted. It was a great effort, he couldn’t say it wasn’t in a million years.

To his dismay, Tony seemed to take Erik’s recognition of the greatness of the offer as a confirmation of Erik’s acceptance. “Awesome. Give Pepper a call when you land at LAX? Thanks.” Before Erik could protest or even correct him, Tony hung up. Erik pulled his phone away from his ear, staring down at the screen as if Tony might burst out of it. After a moment, he turned to Charles, who looked just as surprised as Erik felt, though considerably calmer.

“So.” Charles said quietly. Erik knew very well that Charles already knew how that conversation had gone, and what had been said. Erik blinked, then swallowed hard, still feeling a bit like he was in a dream.

“I think I’m moving to California.”


	8. What Makes You Think I'd Lose my Mind to You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the super long wait. This summer has been crazy for a lot of reasons, and fics definitely went to the back burner. To those of you that stuck around, I want to thank you so, so much for being patient with me and forgiving my ridiculous posting schedule. You guys are seriously some of the best readers I've ever had.

Erik woke easily as he felt the mattress shift beneath him, releasing a quiet groan and taking a moment before he decided that he’d slept long enough. He opened his eyes a fraction, turning over from his back onto his left shoulder. He looked over the sleeping form beside him and to the window, the blinds glowing with early morning sunlight and the blue sky visible between the slats. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, then let his gaze fall down to the man beside him. Charles lied halfway on his stomach, with one arm tucked beneath him and the other thrown over his head. His face was turned towards Erik at a sharp angle, and Erik wondered if he wouldn’t have a serious crick in his neck when he shifted again. Erik would have liked to say that the image of Charles beside him was romantic, but the truth was that Charles looked ridiculous. The side of his face was pressed against the pillow so that his right cheek bulged forward and forced his red lips into a sort of lopsided pout, and his hair stuck out on all sides and covered his eyes somewhat, having been tousled out of its usual perfect wave over his temples. Erik gave an amused little ‘hm’ at the sight of him, then slowly rose from the bed, trying his best not to wake Charles.

Erik got to his feet, closing his eyes again as he rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side to crack his neck. He lifted his arm and brought it across his chest, hooking his forearm over his bicep and stretching it as far as he could. He repeated this motion with the opposite arm, twisted his torso from side to side to work his lower back, and then let his arms drop to his sides with a short sigh of content. He walked across the room, careful to go around the stacks of boxes that had yet to be carried downstairs to be readied for the moving truck. Erik was trying not to think about moving across the country just yet—He needed a little more peaceful pseudo-unemployment, just for the morning.

Erik descended the stairs with a bit of spring in his step, retying the drawstring of his pajama pants as he reached the ground floor as they began to slide down his hips. He stopped at the doorway of the kitchen to listen, and concluded from the silence that Raven had already taken the twins to school. That was just fine with him. He entered the kitchen, pouring out the coffee from the day before and refilling the maker with water from the tap.

It had only been a week since the entire construction site fiasco, but the Lensherr household had already fallen into a new and comfortable routine. Raven woke up early, got the twins ready, and took them to school with her. Erik woke up about an hour later, got up, made coffee, and enjoyed some peace and quiet. An hour after that, he went back upstairs to get dressed and woke Charles. Once they were both up and about, Charles made himself a cup of tea and read for a bit while Erik resumed packing from the night before. Eventually Charles came and helped him, and they spent the day wavering between long, deep conversation and comfortable silence. Through this Erik had discovered that Charles enjoyed much of the same music as he did, and they would often turn the large stereo in the living room to classical music, put the volume loud enough to be heard throughout the house, and enjoy the music as they worked. If they hadn’t been packing for the very thing that would separate the two, Erik would have thought it was the most wonderful week of his life.

 Erik poured some coffee into the filter, let the lid of the maker fall, and then took his seat at the breakfast table and opened up his laptop. Since he and Tony’s very brief conversation, Pepper had taken it upon herself to give Erik a few more crucial details about his coming to Stark Industries, and had been so kind as to help him choose a new house near the headquarters (and, consequently, reasonably close to Stark’s home itself). She kept the twins in mind and picked out a very nice private school nearby for them to attend, as well as several parks, children’s museums, and sports fields that Erik might be interested in taking them to. She sent him all of this in about an email a day, constantly keeping him updated and letting him know what arrangements she was making for him in California. Erik was amazed that she had the time to do all of this as well as handle Tony’s affairs, and made a mental note to do something tangible to really thank her once he was settled in.

The coffee pot began to gurgle and hiss as the water reached a boiling temperature, and Erik listened to the water pouring through the filter as he scrolled through his emails. Since being fired from his old job, he no longer had the constant stream of idiotic questions from coworkers and orders from Emma and Shaw- It had been quite manageable, really. A few newsletters here, some bank account notices there, and a handful of Pepper’s emails, and that was all. It seemed to Erik that it was only when he no longer had his old job that he truly realized how much stress it caused, and how much of his life it consumed.

The bottom step of the stairs creaked as it always did when someone stepped on it, and Erik looked over his shoulder to see a half-awake Charles strolling across the corridor and into the kitchen, still in his pajamas and with his hair tousled from sleep.

“You’re awake early,” Erik commented, suppressing a smirk. Charles mumbled an intelligible response, trudging across to the counter before bending over and searching the lower cabinets, banging pots and pans around without discretion. Finally, he found the kettle, pulling it out and moving over to the sink to fill it.

“I’m making coffee,” Erik reminded him, gesturing towards the coffee pot. Charles didn’t even look up, running a hand through his hair as he held the kettle steady under the faucet with the other. “I prefer tea,” He mumbled. He moved back over to the stove and set the kettle down on top of it, turning up the flame before dropping down into the chair across from Erik. He watched the taller man for a moment before unleashing a drawn-out yawn, and Erik looked back down at his laptop and closed his email.

“My neck hurts.” Charles commented, massaging the space between his neck and collar bone with a frown. Erik suppressed a smirk, instantly reminded of the ridiculous position Charles had been sleeping in.

“So why _are_ you up so early?” Erik asked casually, putting a hand on the top of his laptop and gently closing it.

“I dunno. I heard you get up, and then I felt like I couldn’t force myself to sleep any longer. Besides, it’s not that early, it’s nearly eight…”

“It’s early for you.”

Charles shrugged in response, still massaging his neck and watching the kettle. “So, did Ms. Potts finally find you a house?”

Erik felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as soon as Charles brought up California. Whenever Erik was around him, he preferred not to think about leaving—He assured himself that he couldn’t have become _that_ emotionally attached to Charles, but he knew very well that he was. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

“Did she send you pictures?” Charles asked, an expression of excitement crossing his face as he looked down to Erik’s laptop.

“Yeah. I’ll show you later. I have to get ready.” Erik said with a dismissal wave of his hand, standing from his chair.

“That’s right, you’re going to see Isabelle today,” Charles commented. Erik nodded, tucking his laptop under his arm and turning towards the stairs. “I guess I’ll just pack without you,” Charles added in a dramatically melancholy tone, and Erik gave him a skeptical look over his shoulder. Charles grinned.

“I’ll be back.” Erik moved out of the kitchen and up the stairs, entering his still barely-furnished room and setting his laptop down on the bed. He made quick work of showering and getting dressed, his mind buzzing with future plans and thoughts of Charles and how he was going to tell Isabelle that he was moving and didn’t want any further treatment in California. Though he didn’t hate the sessions like he did at first, they had still become something he only barely tolerated, and he by no means wanted to continue in California if he didn’t have to.

As soon as his hair was combed and his tie knotted, Erik glanced at his watch and picked up his laptop bag. He didn’t think he would really need it in Isabelle’s office, but he felt more secure with it. He retrieved his laptop from the bed and then took the stairs two at a time, sliding his computer into its designated sleeve as he returned to the kitchen. Charles was calmly sipping at a mug of tea at the table, staring at the center of the table with a dreamy look on his face. Erik moved over to the steaming coffee maker, quickly picking up his thermos and filling it. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” He commented to Charles without looking up from his breakfast.

“No rush.” Charles replied calmly, his mug making a quiet little ‘thunk’ as Charles set it down on the table. “Shall I finish packing the livingroom?”

“Yeah. Just leave the TV, or else the twins will have a fit.” Erik screwed the cap onto his thermos, turning around and jumping when he found Charles standing startlingly close to him. “Don’t have too much fun.” Charles said teasingly, his voice quiet. Erik smirked in spite of himself, about to move towards the garage door when Charles put a hand on his shoulder, kissing him quickly on the cheek before immediately returning to the table. Erik stood, dumbfounded, clutching his thermos and looking appalled. He was scandalized, really. It wasn’t as if that morning with Charles hadn’t happened, just before he’d gotten the phone call from Stark. But they hadn’t really shared a romantic moment since then, and Erik had assumed that it was best that they both forget about it. Since then, Erik supposed they’d been close enough—Talking all day, having lingering eye contact, _sleeping in the same bed for Chrissakes_ —But Erik hadn’t given it any thought until now. Did Charles think they were romantically involved? Were they actually romantically involved? Erik hadn’t been with anyone really since Magda died and left him with the kids…

“I, um. I should get going. See you later.” Erik said casually, retrieving his keys from the hook beside the door. He hadn’t meant to sound that cold, but it certainly came out that way.

_What are you doing, Lensherr? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!_

Charles said nothing from the table, apparently finished with his… unorthodox goodbye. Erik walked out to the car, opening the door and tossing his laptop bag inside. He crouched down and slid into his seat, setting this thermos down in the cup holder and tugging his seatbelt across his torso. His mind was still a million miles away as he pulled out of the drive.

_So what if you are romantically involved with Charles? He’s plenty handsome_

_I’m not gay_

_I think your dick would like to make an argument to the contrary. Remember that time you two basically grinded on your bed_

_Shut up shut up shut up_

_I mean you know where that would have gone if Stark didn’t call_

_Stop thinking about it_

_Are you in love Erik_

_People don’t fall in love in a month you’re a fucking idiot Lensherr_

_Maybe you’re having some repressed homosexuality issues_

_Shut up_

_Maybe you really should stick with going to a psychiatrist_

_SHUT UP_

Erik sat back in his seat, realizing that he was actually having a mental conversation with himself. Jesus Christ, he was twice as crazy as before. He decided to cut it off right there, reaching over to the radio and turning it up loud enough to drown out his thoughts. He drove the rest of the way to his session in mental silence, grinding his teeth and gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

Soon enough, he found himself at the medical center and walking the familiar route to Isabelle’s office, getting an instant pass from the little punk at the desk and climbing the stairs as quickly as he could. He wanted to hurry up and talk about anything but Charles, just to get his mind off of it. As he reached the open waiting area, he saw that Isabelle’s door was open and strode right inside, finding the doctor typing furiously at her computer. Erik cleared his throat and she looked over her shoulder, seeming almost surprised to see him there. “Oh, Erik. I didn’t think… Wasn’t watching the time…” She quickly minimized whatever she was working on and turned off her monitor, spinning around in her chair to face him. “Well, have a seat.” She added with a kind expression, gesturing to the couch. Erik obeyed, lifting the strap of his laptop bag off of his shoulder and setting it in its usual spot beside him. Isabelle retrieved her writing pad from the end of her desk and settled in. “So, it’s been a couple of weeks since we’ve seen each other,” she stated, clicking her pen.

“Yeah,” Erik responded boredly.

“Well, I do have news for you—“

“I have news too.” Erik interrupted. Isabelle only smiled at him.

“Alright, Erik. Share.”

“I told you that I was fired, and got another job offer.”

“Yes, you did. You seemed very conflicted about it.” She scribbled something down and then looked back up at him.

“Well, I made up my mind. I’m taking it.”

“That’s wonderful news!” She said excitedly, setting her pen down. “I think you’ll feel much better at a new job. None of the old stress, something to keep your mind busy—“

“It’s in California.” Erik had conveniently left this part out when they’d discussed it, unsure of whether or not to continue this therapy once he moved.

“Oh. Well, that’s no problem. I have plenty of colleagues in California that I can recommend to you. As soon as you get settled in, you can make an appointment.” Isabelle immediately jumped in, turning to her desk and retrieving her Rolodex. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to take ‘not continuing treatment’ for an answer, and Erik supposed he could just take the names and never actually call. He wasn’t in the mood for the questioning and constant nagging that would certainly come if he announced it like he’d planned. Isabelle selected a few names, muttering under her breath as she wrote them down on her fresh sheet of paper.

“So, is this our last session, then?” She asked casually.

“I guess so.” Erik said noncommittally, staring at the little jar of seashells on the book shelf in the corner.

“That’s fine. That makes my news all the more well-timed.” She finally finished copying down the names and numbers, turning back around in her chair. “I’ll give you these when we’re finished talking,” she promised, crossing her legs. “Now, can I give you my news?” Erik nodded.

 “You’ve been making some great progress since we began, but I’ve discussed it with a few colleagues and decided that it would be best if we put you on medication. I’ve been reviewing your case lately, and decided that your issues are not so much emotional as they are chemical. That is to say, you have a true mental disorder.” Isabelle made vague gestures over her writing pad as she spoke, and Erik watched her hands. True mental disorder? Was she telling him that he really was crazy?

“It’s very difficult to diagnose, but we’ve concluded that borderline personality disorder is a good fit. Now, it’s not the same for everyone, but—“

“I thought what went on in here was confidential.” Erik interrupted, suddenly angry. He had been promised at the beginning of this ordeal that nothing he said would leave this sad little office. Isabelle nodded slowly, letting her hands drop to her lap.

“It is, Erik. I didn’t use your name. But it’s not uncommon for doctors to collaborate on and discuss cases. It allows us to look at things from.. .Different points of view, I suppose you could say. It’s so that you get the best sort of treatment available. In your best interests, I mean.” Isabelle explained calmly.

“Okay, but… What is this… Disorder, or whatever?” Erik asked. His previously content mood had dissipated—His stomach clenched as a sort of hard numbness came over him. There was really something wrong with him? Erik had always known he had anger issues, maybe had some trouble making friends and such… But did that really make him a lunatic?

“Erik, I feel like you’re feeling angry, and scared.” Isabelle admitted quietly, setting her writing aside. “I want you to know that this diagnosis does not make you… Crazy. Plenty of people live with borderline personality disorder. It affects your life, sure, but just as it always has. Giving it a name doesn’t make it any more terrible.”

“No, it makes me a diagnosed lunatic.” Erik snapped.

Isabelle gave him a sympathetic expression. “It does not, Erik. You can still function and have a fruitful life with it. You’re not a lunatic. I’m telling you, as a psychiatrist, you are not a lunatic. Not at all.”

“Then why do I need medication?” Erik demanded.

Isabelle sighed. “Because, Erik. This disorder is preventing you from living a normal life, in some ways. The medication isn’t to keep you subdued or sedated, it’s just to help you with those extreme emotions that you feel. All of those deep-seated fears we discussed. You see, oftentimes, these disorders come from not only negative experiences in someone’s life, but also a chemical imbalance in the brain. These medications help to… Even them out, so to speak. Do you understand?”

Erik stared blankly at her. She was telling him that he wasn’t a lunatic, but he certainly still felt like one. Like there was something wrong with him. Like he didn’t belong in society. Still, he reluctantly nodded. Isabelle nodded in response, leaning back in her chair.

“We’ve talked about your childhood, Erik. It was rough, and has affected your entire life. We discussed your irrational, inappropriate anger, your fear of abandonment, feeling detached and empty. Your black-and-white thinking, constant tension. Destructive behavior.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Erik said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I understand that it’s a lot to take in and accept, Erik. But it’s a good thing. Now we understand what it is, and we can treat it. We can help you overcome it.”

“What, with drugs? How does that help?”

Isabelle looked slightly exasperated, but her tone remained even and patient. “The medication is just to relieve some of the symptoms while you continue with your treatment. It’s to help you, not hurt you. I promise.”

“What if I don’t continue with my treatment?” Erik asked, as if threatening to do so.

“Well… You have fulfilled your court ordered treatment. So, it’s your choice.” Isabelle looked unsure of this. “But if you do choose not to continue with it, the medication will certainly still help you. Though I strongly recommend that you continue seeing a professional after you move. It’s for your own benefit, Erik.”

“We’ll see.” Erik muttered.

“I have the prescription written already. I’ll give it to you along with the doctors’ names at the end of the session, hm?” Isabelle concluded, picking up her pen again. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss on that subject? More about BPD, the medication, side effects, anything?”

“No.”

“Alright, then.” Isabelle crossed something off on her paper. “Is there anything in particular you would like to discuss today?”

“No.”

“Would you rather just sit in silence for a while?”

It sounded almost like a question a mother would ask of a noncompliant child. Erik was quickly losing his patience with this woman again. “No.”

“Alright, then. How are your children? Are they handling the move to California well?”

Erik shrugged. “They were upset at first. Leaving their friends here, new school, or whatever. But then they went around telling all their classmates and I guess really like the attention.” Isabelle smiled at that.

“How about you? How do you feel about the move?”

“Stressed. Anxious.”

“Perfectly normal to feel that way. It’s a big milestone in anyone’s life. But you’re optimistic about your new opportunities there?”

“I don’t know. It’s better than my old job, living here.”

“Good, good.” Isabelle scribbled something down. “And how is your friend…?” She flipped through her notes until she found the name. “Charles?”

Erik tensed at the name, immediately remembering the kiss that morning. “…Fine.”

“You seem a little unsure.”

“It’s a little complicated.”

“Care to elaborate on that?”

Erik took a deep breath, held it, and then released it through his nose. Should he go into detail about this with Isabelle? Would she judge him? Gossip about it to all of her colleagues? Still. She said she hadn’t shared his name, and he believed her. Despite how much she infuriated him, he had still grown to trust Isabelle over the past month or so.

“I don’t know. There were a couple of instances… We’re sort of, but not really… Um…” He wanted desperately for Isabelle to cut in and make a suggestion, but she didn’t. “Involved.” He concluded vaguely.

“Romantically, you mean?”

“I guess.” She didn’t even blink an eye. Erik felt somewhat relieved.

“And you’re feeling…”

“Unsure. Weird. Embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed of the relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“Because…”

“Because we’re both men, for fuck’s sakes.” Erik snapped. Isabelle nodded, writing this down. “So you feel that homosexuality is wrong, or socially unacceptable?”

“No! No, I’m not… I’m not some kind of bigot. Gays are fine. I don’t care. It’s just that _I’m_ not one. I’ve never been one. I’ve always liked… Women.”

“So why can’t that change?”

“Because I’m not gay! I’ve never thought about another man that way.”

“But you are with Charles?”

“Sort of, I guess.”

“From what you’ve told me, you two have formed a very strong, intimate bond, especially since what happened with your boss. Do you feel that it’s unnatural to develop romantic feelings after that sort of emotional intimacy?”

“Yeah. No. I mean… It’s another man.”

“Yes, you’ve said that.”

“I guess…”

“Mm?”

“I guess I’ve just… I’ve never had that kind of relationship… With anyone. Being that close. Letting them know so much about me.” Erik finally admitted, defeated. Isabelle nodded in understanding, having the good grace to cease her writing.

“When you’re with Charles, even just around him or talking to him, do you still have those feelings of embarrassment?”

“No. I guess not.”

“How do you feel, then? Give me a few words.”

“Content. Uh, comfortable.”

“Are you afraid to allow yourself to feel those things, maybe? They’re foreign to you?”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean… I haven’t felt like that with a person since Magda.”

Isabelle wrote this down.  “So, why be ashamed of someone who makes you feel comfortable?”

“I don’t fucking know. Isn’t that the sort of thing you’re supposed to tell me?” Erik growled, glaring at Isabelle. She looked unfazed, and remained silent. “I just… I haven’t been that open with someone in… I’ve never had a friend like…” Erik struggled to come up with the right words. “I’m upset because now I’m leaving. I’ve found this person, and I’m leaving.”

“So you’re uncomfortable with being with him because you know the ending is coming?”

“No, and yes. Both. I’m still not gay.”

Isabelle sighed. “Erik, you don’t have to be homosexual to love another man.”

“But it’s not just loving him. It’s… It’s other stuff, too.”

“Other stuff.”

“I don’t know.” Erik shifted in his seat uncomfortably, reminded of the time that he and Charles had kissed in his bed. How badly he had wanted it to progress. How annoyed her felt when Stark’s call had interrupted. “Sex. That sort of thing.”

“So maybe it is homosexuality. But you seem to feel that there’s a stigma, a type of person that goes along with homosexuality and you’re not that person.”

“Right.”

“That’s a stereotype, Erik.” Isabelle said plainly. Erik blinked. He didn’t stereotype people, he wasn’t a bigot. Not at all. He just wasn’t gay.

“It is not.”

“Fine, if you feel that way. But there’s nothing wrong or shameful in your own sexuality. As far as I can tell, you are two consenting adults with very strong feelings towards one another. The more you deny or repress it, the more you punish yourself for it, the worse you’re going to feel. If anything, Erik, I feel as if this tentative relationship with Charles has helped you.”  Erik hadn’t considered that, but it was true. He’d confided in Charles, shared thoughts and feelings that he never had with anyone before. Charles always made him feel at ease with himself, reassured that he was basically good and worthy. Most of all, that his anger did not define him as a person; that there was more to Erik Lensherr than his job, his kids, and his temper.

“Have you expressed any of these feelings of uncertainty or embarrassment to Charles?”

“No. I don’t… It might hurt him.”

“Yes, but don’t you think being honest with him would be better?”

“I don’t know. What does it matter? I’m leaving for California soon.”

“It can make all the difference in the world.” Isabelle wrote something down, then glanced at her wrist watch. “I’m sorry to cut this conversation short  Erik, especially since it’s probably our last, but your session is over.”

Erik frowned, checking his watch as well as if hers might be wrong. He was relieved that they no longer had to talk about this, but at the same time, he felt unfulfilled. He regretted not just spilling everything to Isabelle—He felt like he would feel much better if he had. As Erik stood, Isabelle ripped a sheet of paper from her writing pad as well as retrieved a prescription slip from her desk, standing up as well and handing them over to him. “Those are the names and your prescription. I’ll go ahead and call it in for you, so you can pick it up later today.”

“Okay.” Erik said quietly, staring at the papers in his hand for a moment before stuffing them into his pocket. He looked at Isabelle, then gave a brief little nod. He felt like he should say something, but was at a loss for words again.

“It was a pleasure being your doctor, Erik. I do hope you follow through with further treatment—I really think it could help you.” She said with a sincere little smile.

“Uh, yeah. It’s been great. Thanks for everything. And, um… I’ll definitely consider it.” Erik responded. They shook hands before Erik turned to leave the room. He was overcome with the need to get as far away from this place as he could as quickly as possible, and once he was out of Isabelle’s view he raced through the hall and down the stairs. He felt as if he didn’t get out soon enough, he was going to suffocate, and took the back exit at the bottom of the stairs. He jogged all the way to his car, wrenching the door open and throwing himself inside. He left his laptop bag on, simply pulling his seatbelt over it before turning his key in the ignition and racing out of the parking lot. He realized that he was breathing hard as if he’d just been running from some kind of unseen horror, and swallowed hard before forcing himself to calm down.

_What the fuck is wrong with you? You really are crazy, Lensherr. Get it together. GET IT TOGETHER AND WATCH THE MOTHERFUCKING ROAD DEAR GOD_

Erik swerved to the side as an unseen eighteen wheeler nearly rammed into him at the end of the highway’s entrance ramp, crying out in surprise. The truck honked at him and sped past, and Erik cautiously pulled into the next lane again, holding tightly onto the steering wheel to keep his hands from shaking.

~

By the time Erik got home, he had decided that he would discuss what had transpired in Isabelle’s office with Charles. He trusted the man, after all, and felt as if he had absolutely no one else to go to. Charles would understand. Charles would be calm and rational, and comfort Erik without treating him like some misbehaved child like Isabelle had.

He came in through the garage door, throwing his keys on the counter and trying to breathe through the tightening sensation in his chest. “Charles?” He called out, his voice echoing off the tile floor of the kitchen. He shrugged off his laptop bag, throwing it carelessly onto the table. “Charles?” He repeated, walking into the hallway and looking around frantically.

“I’m in here!” Charles’s voice answered from the living room. Erik entered to find him bent over a box of books, making neat little stacks of them in the cardboard container. He stood up as Erik entered, brushing his hair out of his face. “How did it go? You look upset.” He asked, concern creeping into his tone as his eyebrows drew together in the center of his forehead and his red lips bent into a frown.

Erik strode over to him, seizing Charles by the shoulders and holding back tears. He crushed his mouth to Charles’s in a bruising kiss, moving one hand to the back of Charles’s head to prevent him from pulling away. Charles made a small noise of surprise, tensing for a moment before finally relaxing, melting into the kiss effortlessly. They remained locked together until Erik couldn’t hold his breath any longer, finally pulling back just far enough so that he could look Charles in the eye.

“Erik, you’re—What’s the matter?” Charles stammered, looking twice as worried as before.

“I just—I just need you to be here right now. For me.” Erik said breathlessly. He didn’t want to talk to Charles about what had happened in Isabelle’s office, or California, or packing.

Charles gave a breathy little laugh, and Erik worried that he was mocking him. “I’m always here for you, Erik.” He said sincerely, and Erik felt an ache deep in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He searched Charles’s deep blue eyes for a moment before leaning in, kissing him more softly this time. Charles reached, holding one hand to the back of Erik’s neck and wrapping the other around his middle, deepening the kiss and seeming to sense Erik’s desperation for closeness as he pulled the taller man tightly to him.

“I don’t want to leave this.” Erik mumbled against Charles’s lips, keeping his eyes closed.

“I’m not going to let you move across the country and just never say a word to you again, Erik.” Charles assured him quietly, pulling back and resting his forehead against Erik’s.

“I barely know you. We’ve only just met,” Erik admitted.

“I know you better than you know. I can’t just let you go like that.” Charles glanced up at Erik with such a loving look in his eyes that the ache in Erik’s chest intensified.

“You’ll come with me? To California?” Erik asked, hopeful.

“We’ll see. If nothing else, I will do nothing short of flying there every week to see you.” Charles replied, his fingers sliding through the hair on the back of Erik’s head. Erik sighed, somewhat disappointed. “No, no. Don’t be like that. I have my own life in Massachusetts. But I promise, Erik, I will go to whatever lengths necessary to be with you.”

Erik took a shuddering breath, feeling a hot tear roll down his cheek. Charles brushed it away easily with his thumb, kissing Erik lightly on the corner of the mouth.

“I feel like some stupid infatuated teenager.” Erik muttered, looking down and away from Charles’s gaze.

“I assure you, you’re not.” Charles said with a quiet chuckle.

“You’ll really come to California, at least sometimes?” Erik repeated, insistent on hearing it again. That he didn’t have to abandon Charles and what they had, even if he was embarrassed of it. Charles nodded solemnly, moving his hand to the side of Erik’s face and tilting his head back so that he could look directly into Erik’s eyes.

“I promise.”


	9. Winds of Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, no, Lee is not an OC. Like Isabelle, she's in the comics. Lee Forrester, if you care to look her up. 
> 
> As usual, a million apologies for how long it's been since I updated. I'm just going to stop making promised publish dates, haha. I'm really trying to keep it reasonable, though, guys. I want to write these chapters as much as you want to read them. I'm publishing them as soon as they're written, so sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes. I usually go back and fix them when I reread the chapters later on.
> 
> Enjoy~

“So Pepper told me that she got you a dog.”

“Oh, uh… Yeah. She did.”

“Good dog? You like dogs?”

“I guess.”

“Good.” Tony leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arm rests and tenting his fingers. “Like your office?”

Erik looked around the office. Compared to the sparse furniture of his drafting table, his desk, and the chairs at it, it was comically big. When Erik agreed to the job, he had thought he’d get a cubicle, an interior office at the most. But Tony Stark meant business when he said head engineer—Erik had gotten a corner office, and Erik had nowhere near enough furniture to fill it.

“Yeah. Plenty of space.” Erik said with a nod, fidgeting with his pen. Tony looked around the office as well, leaning back in the chair across the desk from Erik.

“You know. I just thought—Engineers dig that sort of thing. Space to think.”

“You might be thinking of architects.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care.” Tony was looking everywhere but Erik. Erik had always heard that Tony Stark was an eccentric man, but he couldn’t have planned for this. In all honesty, Tony annoyed him, but for a job with a corner office and six figure pay… Erik was willing to hold his tongue, for once.

“So, let’s talk about this Shaw guy.” Tony leaned forward in his chair again, picking up a framed photograph from Erik’s desk and flipping it towards him. He only glanced at Pietro and Wanda’s faces, then replaced it. “Cute. Yeah, so you… Beat the living shit out of him, put him in the hospital, and then… Went to some kind of support group therapy thing?”

“Just a psychiatrist.”

“Right. Court mandated, right? Yeah. You’re done with that?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. Just so we’re sure, you’re not going to beat the ever living shit out of me, right?”

“Um… No.”

“Good. I like that in a person.” Tony stood from his chair, and Erik instinctively stood as well. “I’ll see what I can do. No, no, I don’t shake hands. Yep. Thanks. You’re, uh, free to go for the day. Get out of here.” Tony spun around and headed towards the door, leaving Erik more than a bit confused. That conversation had been… Abrupt.

Erik decided it was best to follow orders, though, shutting down his laptop and packing it up. He strolled through the Stark Industries building, admiring the tasteful architecture and décor even though he’d seen it all a dozen times since he came here. Tony had given him a week to settle into his new house, then had Pepper take him on the grand tour of the building. Erik was pleased, to say the least—Everyone he met seemed to be highly competent, the work environment was high-tech and pleasant to be in, and everything within it went without a hitch. Erik was a great appreciator of efficiency, and was beginning to think that this job was definitely worth leaving his old home and—

_I don’t want to think about Charles right now_

But even as he said it in his mind, images of Charles were already flashing through his thoughts. Charles laughing, Charles sleeping, Charles holding back tears as they said good bye and Charles’s harmonious voice as he promised to visit as soon as possible. Erik felt his stomach twist as he stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for the basement garage and then flattening himself against the back wall of the car. Charles pushing his hair back out of his face, Charles drinking tea, Charles holding Erik’s face in his hands, Charles naked body seen through a narrow gap in the bathroom door, Charles’s hands on the bare skin of Erik’s sides—

Erik stopped those thoughts right there, clutching his laptop bag tightly and watching the illuminated button panel intently. He tried to instead turn his thoughts towards his schedule for the day. Go home, change clothes, take care of the dog, check his email, pick up the twins from their new school, make sure they weren’t developing into serial killers, then make dinner. He reminded himself to get some unpacking done somewhere in there, while he was at it.

As Erik strode to his car, he thought about how he was thankful that Stark Industries was far enough outside of LA that he could still drive his car. Erik had only been to Los Angeles on a few occasions, but after seeing the traffic, he knew he would never care for driving through it. The legendary city was still within reasonable driving distance, though, and the twins had been begging him to go and see it since they arrived. Erik continuously promised them that they would go soon enough, though he himself didn’t know when they were going to find the time.

The drive was an uneventful one, and as Erik pulled into the driveway of the modern house, he could already hear the dog howling and barking from inside.

_Motherfucking dumb dog you’d better be glad my kids like you or I swear to god you’d be euthanized by now_

Erik climbed out of his car, locking it and walking around the back of the house to let himself in. As soon as he opened the door, the border collie was upon him, barking and bumping into his legs and jumping up at him. Erik growled, pushing it down and away as best he could with one hand as he closed and locked the door with the other. “Alright, I’ll let you out, you goddamn cretin.” Erik walked into the kitchen, throwing his laptop case on the counter before heading for the staircase. The dog followed him obediently, panting.

Erik wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the house. For starters, it was massive. Two floors, just like his old one, but with nearly twice the square footage. Second, it was one of the nicest homes Erik had ever been in. Built in a contemporary style, it was all white paint and blonde wood, with huge windows that let every ray of California sunshine in. There was a pool in the back, and the suburb was in a remote enough area that when Erik looked out his bedroom window, he could see the beach and the sun setting over the water every night. Erik had no idea how much it cost, and he didn’t care to ask. As long as Tony Stark was footing the bill, what did Erik care?

Pepper had also taken plenty of time to furnish and decorate the place, as well as make it kid friendly. Any sharp corners had little foam bumpers on them, she assured him that all of the windows were safety glass, and anything dangerous like knife drawers and stove controls were far out of their reach. The twins each had their own bedroom, which they were ecstatic about, each one stocked with toys and new clothes and décor obviously picked out with Wanda and Pietro in mind. The more Erik was around Pepper, the more he marveled at how many details she seemed to be able to keep in her mind. He was sure she had simply hired an interior decorator and given a few vague instructions, but there were unmistakeable detail that were obviously Pepper’s doing—Like knowing that pink and red were Wanda’s favorite colors, or the brand new pair of running sneakers that had been left in the bottom of Pietro’s closet. Erik kept reminding himself to send Pepper a thank you card and flowers, at the very least.

As Erik reached the master bedroom, he immediately shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the bed. Just as the twins rooms had been decorated to their liking, Erik’s had been styled to his. It was clean, simple, modern—Mostly cool tones of slate grey and black. The bed was a king, much bigger than the double he’d slept on at home, and ten times as comfortable. Erik could bring shades down over the large windows facing the ocean with the press of a button. Since coming here, he felt like he was staying in some kind of hotel.

Erik tugged his tie loose and pulled his shirt over his head, the collie still circling his feet excitedly. Once Erik was down to his underwear, he went to the dresser, quickly putting on running shorts, a t-shirt, and his sneakers. The collie, recognizing the outfit which immediately preceded Erik taking him for a run, began to bark and darted out the door before coming right back in. It repeated this until Erik finally grabbed his phone and made his way downstairs again, retrieving the leash from the hook beside the back door. As he leaned down to clip it on, the dog became even more excited, wriggling and jumping around so much that it took nearly five minutes for Erik to clip it onto the ring of his collar.

Once the back door was opened, the dog immediately leaped out of it, nearly pulling Erik over. “Fucking dog!” He shouted, holding tight with one hand as he attempted to lock the back door with the other. As Erik was half-led, half-dragged around to the front of the house, he quietly wondered when they were going to get around to naming the dog. He was fairly sure that the twins both had their own names for it, and seemed to recall them fighting over it often. Erik had fallen into the habit of just calling it ‘Dog’.

As the two companions reached the sidewalk, Dog attempted to break into a run. Erik held fast to the leash, speeding up to a brisk walk and then finally a jog. It was sort of nice, he guessed, to have the dog with him on his runs. More people smiled at him rather than scowling at him or watching him like he was going to break into their house and rape their daughters. The only downside was whenever people wanted to stop and pet it, and ask him all the questions about it that he didn’t know the answer to. That was usually enough of an irritant to ruin the rest of Erik’s day. Women were especially fond of doing this—They’d stop him, pet his dog, make eyes at him and every so often drop hints about a date or even slip him their number. Erik didn’t have the heart to tell them that he was, at present, a struggling engineer working for what might have been the world’s richest egomaniac, raising twins he didn’t want while seeing a medical professional for anger management issues, all while being kind-of-not-really involved with another man who had done nothing but love him like no other and also make Erik question his sexuality every moment of every day. Erik figured that might, you know, scare a few people off.

Just a few.

Still, when he wasn’t stopped by women, the runs with the dog were nice. Erik got a workout, the dog got a workout, and they could both go home and sit quietly on the couch until it was time to get the twins. Erik had been warned that if he didn’t exercise the collie, it would take to destroying furniture and getting into all sorts of trouble, so Erik thought the daily runs were a small trade.

After about ten minutes, Dog ceased pulling on the leash, keeping pace with Erik as soon as he picked up into a real run. In the distance, Erik could see someone else running with their dog, coming towards him. As he realized it was a woman, his stomach twisted—She was going to want to stop and fawn over the fucking collie, probably. He prepared himself to slow to a walk again, looking over the woman as she approached. She was blonde, looked fit, and had a retriever on the leash she was holding. To his surprise, as they passed each other, she only gave him a little nod, then continued on. Well, that was unexpectedly nice.

Erik continued jogging only to be pulled back by the leash, stumbling back and barely catching himself. The collie had stopped dead in its tracks and turned to follow the retriever, tail wagging. “Fucking dog,” Erik panted, yanking the leash in an attempt to pull the dog back in the direction they had been travelling. But now, the retriever had taken interest as well, dragging its owner back again.

“Sorry,” The woman said breathlessly, pulling out an ear bud and reaching down to take the retriever by the collar.

“No, it’s my dog—He’s not trained very well—“ Erik panted, taking his dog by the collar as well. This motion was met with a growl, and Erik instinctively pulled back again. The girl laughed openly at him, and Erik shot her a dirty look.

“Yeah, I can tell. That dog knows who’s alpha.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Erik insisted.

“No, it’s the dog,” She replied, sliding her hand underneath the retriever’s collar. “Jack!” She said firmly, and the canine immediately turned away from the collie and towards her. Erik’s dog continued sniffing the retriever intently. The blonde watched Erik intently, waiting for him to do the same and prove himself. Erik stared down at the collie, then grabbed his collar again.

“Dog!”

The dog growled and turned around to face him, snapping at his other hand.

The woman was laughing again, and Erik had half a mind to just hand his dog over to her and fucking go back home.

“Is it a new dog?” She asked, wrapping the retriever’s leash around her hand.

“Yeah. I just moved here, got it for the kids. Or something.”

“Oh, sweet. I knew you weren’t from California.”

“How?”

“I dunno. You just don’t look like it.” She lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head, and Erik saw now that she was actually quite pretty. Still, she had laughed at him, and that was unforgiveable. “I’m Lee.” She held out her hand, and Erik reluctantly took it.

“Erik,” He said gruffly. Her handshake was surprisingly strong—Erik had to tighten his grip to make up for it.

“You live in this neighborhood?”

“A couple of streets down, yeah.”

“I live down by the beach. None of these fancy houses.” She gestured to the multimillion dollar homes surrounding them. “You run a lot?”

“Every day.”

“Run any marathons?”

“Not in a while.”

“Well, hey, there’s this 5k thing coming up that some of my friends are doing. It’s for charity. Would you be interested?”

Erik briefly considered it—It really had been a while since he’d done any sort of actual organized run, but he remembered enjoying it the last time he’d done it. He shrugged noncommittally. “Sure, if I’ve got time.”

“Great. I’ll send you the information. Your number?” Lee reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone and turning it on.

“My what?”

“Your number. So I can send you the information. You have a phone, right?” She asked, looking at Erik like he might be stupid.

“Oh. Uh… Right.” Now he was giving his number to a woman. This was a change. Erik pulled out his phone and gave her his number, and she gave him his. She briefly described the run, but Erik wasn’t really listening. He was much too preoccupied with staring at her face. She really was pretty, in a sort of natural, outdoorsy way. After a few minutes, Lee finally seemed to sense that he wasn’t paying attention, putting her sunglasses back on.

“Okay, well. I’ll just send you all of the information later,” She said, unwrapping the leash from her hand.

“Great. Talk to you then,” Erik said distractedly. She gave him a little nod and took off again, and Erik looked over his shoulder to watch her go. He then looked down at the collie, who was majestically crouched over the lawn beside the sidewalk, taking a shit right in the grass. Erik, deciding that he didn’t much care to pick it up, left it right where it was and picked up into a jog again.

~

When Erik returned to the house, the phone was ringing. It took him a minute to locate exactly where the closest extension was, and he eventually had to run all the way up to his bedroom to find one. He picked it up after the fifth ring, panting from running up the stairs. “This is—Erik Lensherr—“

“What—Are you alright?” Charles’s voice said from the other line. Erik’s heart swelled at the sound of it.

“Oh, yeah—I just—Got back in from a run and—Couldn’t find a phone—“ Erik fell back to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling his sweat-soaked shirt away from his body.

“Alright, if that’s all. I’ll let you catch your breath for a moment and you can just listen. I’m completely free this weekend, and Raven says she can cancel a few things, so I was thinking that I could fly out to California Thursday evening, and then leave Monday. Provided your schedule will allow, of course.” Charles said calmly, though Erik could sense some excitement in his voice. Erik didn’t blame him. He was excited at the prospect of seeing Charles, too.

“Yeah. That sounds great.” Erik said breathlessly, kicking off his Nikes and then peeling off his socks.

“Wonderful! Raven’s ecstatic about seeing the twins again. I’ll book a hotel—“

“There’s no need—This new house, it’s gigantic.”

“Truly?”

“It is. I’ve got a guest bedroom with a bath attached. Almost as big as the master bedroom.”

“Well, as long as we’re not imposing—“

Erik laughed before he could stop himself. “Charles, you’re not imposing. You’re more of a nuisance by being across the country than you would be if you were just here.”

Charles chuckled quietly. “I miss you too, Erik.”

“That’s not what I said,” Erik protested, teasingly.

“It was implied.” Erik could almost hear Charles smiling over the phone. He envisioned it, and his heart skipped a beat.

“I’m looking at the travel website now… There’s a flight that arrives at seven, is that too late in the evening?” Charles continued. Erik was quiet, and could hear the sound of typing in the background.

“No, that’s great. We can have dinner or something after picking you two up from the airport. The twins will be excited,” Erik assured him, turning to stare out the windows. The sun shone bright overhead, making the ocean glitter with reflected light.

“That sounds like a marvelous idea.”

“I’m full of them.”

Charles chuckled again. “Alright, tickets booked. I will be seeing you at the airport at seven o’clock Thursday evening.”

“I look forward to it.” Erik stood, pushing his shorts down off of his hips before moving towards the bathroom.

“Did you talk to Stark today?”

“Yes, actually. He came all the way to my office.”

“Oh, you must be very important, to have Tony Stark come to you.”

“He mostly just harassed me. He didn’t talk about anything important.”

“I believe it. Made any friends with your coworkers yet?”

“No, and I don’t want to.”

“Really, Erik. It doesn’t have to be like your old job.”

“I don’t want to be friends with anyone I work with.”

“Well, I suppose keeping work and your personal life separate is respectable…”

Erik set the phone down on the counter to pull his shirt over his head. He picked it up again, and Charles was still talking.

“—Saying that you should make some friends there in California, it would benefit you.”

“I’ll make friends.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll have you know that I did just today. I ran into this woman on my run, she told me about some 5k run her friends were doing for a charity.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting. What sort of charity?”

“No idea.”

“What was her name?”

Erik paused. “I forget.”

“Erik.”

“It was Leah or something.”

“You don’t even remember her name?”

“I was a bit busy with the information for the run. But we exchanged numbers, it’s not as if I’m just going to forget about it.”

“Well, good.”

“Thank you so much for looking out for my social interests, Charles,” Erik said sarcastically.

“I have to; you never will,” Charles laughed. Erik laughed as well, retrieving a clean towel from the rack.

“That’s pretty true, I have to admit,” He joked.

“Well, I have to go. I’ve got a lecture in twenty minutes. I’ll call you back tonight?”

“Alright,” Erik agreed, hand hovering over the shower faucet.

“Good bye, Erik.”

“Bye, Charles.”

Erik waited for the click, then turned on the water and moved underneath it.

~

 As the twins climbed into the car, Erik turned down the radio and watched them buckle up in the rear view mirror. “Any newsletters?” He asked. Erik had decided that them moving to California meant a new start as a parent. He had sworn to make an effort to be more involved in their lives, and thus far, he supposed it hadn’t been too difficult. Wanda made most things fairly easy for him.

“No.” She replied, pulling her seatbelt across her body and neatly buckling it.

“Alright. Anything happen at school today?” He asked, even though he didn’t really care. He’d read on a parenting site that you should always ask. It showed them that you cared, or something.

“I’m the fastest kid in gym!” Pietro announced proudly. Erik nodded. “Great.”

Pietro swelled with pride, even though the praise was minimum.

“Making friends?” Erik asked, glancing into the rear view mirror again before pulling out of the school’s drive.

“Yes!” Pietro responded. Wanda nodded dreamily, kicking her feet and staring out the window. “Some girls let me sit with them at lunch today,” She said quietly.

“Good,” Erik responded, reaching out to turn the radio back up when he remembered the news he had meant to share with them. “I’ve got a surprise for you on Thursday.”

“Is it a party?”

“Is it a pony?”

The twins asked in unison, and Erik glanced at them over his shoulder before turning his attention over to the road. “No. It’s—“

“No, I want to guess!” Pietro insisted. “Give me a hint.”

“Alright,” Erik was still in a good mood from Charles’s phone call, so he was finding Pietro’s antics more amusing than annoying, for once. “It’s a person.”

“Are they famous?”

“No.”

“Are we related to them?”

“No.”

“Do we know them?”

“Yes.”

“I… Uh… I don’t know.”

“It’s Charles.” Wanda said softly, and Erik smiled.

“Charles and Raven are visiting for the weekend,” He confirmed. Both twins absolutely beamed, looking at each other excitedly.

“When?” Pietro demanded.

“I already said, Thursday.”

“That’s so far awayyyyy,” Pietro groaned, leaning forward before throwing himself back against the seat. Wanda remained calm, though she still smiled.

“It’ll be here sooner than you think.” Erik assured him, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel.

“I miss them a lot,” Wanda commented.

“Me too,” Erik admitted, giving her a sympathetic smile. “I miss them too.”


End file.
